Psyche
by Gizmobunny
Summary: Alex died on a Thursday - or at least her body did. At first sharing Max's head seemed like a nice alternative, but after three years it's time that she moved on. Alex Russo has never gone down without a fight, however, and this is no exception. Complete.
1. Psyche

_**A/N**: This idea started pestering me a few days ago. I wasn't planning on following through with it, but as soon as I started writing the first chapter I got hooked. Because I have several other projects going on (Rose; Seven Ways; The Secondaries; preparations for NaNoWriMo; and, of course, real life) I'm not sure how far I'm going to continue this. I'll just see how it goes. ^-^_

_I do not own _Wizards_. Full summary at bottom_.

* * *

_**Psyche [ˈsʌɪki**] - noun; the human soul, mind, or spirit._

Alex died on a Thursday.

Nothing important happens on Thursdays, she had always stated with certainty. Thursdays were dull, gray-and-brown days reserved for soap operas and dermatologist appointments. It was as though the deities, both evil and benign, stayed in bed with a can of TaB and let their underlings take care of the work on Earth. Anything on either end of the spectrum was strictly prohibited. It would be illogical.

On October thirtieth, her theory was proved wrong before she made it to school.

* * *

**_October 30, 2008_**

"We need to talk. _Now_."

Theresa approached her daughter during breakfast. Alex stared back with bleary eyes, one hand rummaging inside a box of cereal. The TV blared out an unedited rap song, which Theresa was quick to silence with a ferocious flick of the remote.

"What about?" Alex wrapped the fleece blanket tighter around her stomach and rubbed at her cold arms.

Theresa took a seat on the futon. "Are you sick?"

"Umm... I don't think so." Alex avoided her mother's intent gaze.

"So your throwing up three times a day is nothing to speak of?"

"I don't know what y-"

Theresa shook her head. "Your brother was kind enough to rat you out."

Furrowing her brow, Alex raised her knees up in front of her chest. "It's nothing."

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure about that." With a stone face, Theresa pulled a blue, oblong object out from behind her back. Alex groaned with recognition, but before she could argue Theresa had jumped on the case.

"Why didn't you _tell_ me you were _pregnant_? This is a big thing! Do you realize what you've done? Do you realize how badly you've messed up your life?"

It was the mechanical spiel Alex had expected, and Theresa was living up to it word for word. Alex stared at the carpet, letting her vision blur, and tuned out the prattling of her mother's voice. She ached to crawl back into bed; at once she felt quite envious of Snow White. A glass coffin would be ideal at the moment.

" - and I hope you weren't planning on just getting an abortion, because you know I would never, _ever_ allow that-"

Alex decided that the coffin would be soundproof.

Theresa ended her lecture with an exasperated huff and whisked downstairs, shouting a warning about the time. Thirty minutes to get ready. Tasting bile in the back of her throat, Alex rose from the futon and stumbled towards the bathroom.

The door was locked. Swallowing hard, Alex leaned her head against the wall and moaned. She wanted to grab her mother by the shoulders and scream, _"I know_!" until her voice gave out. Everything her mother had gone on about, every warning and every bad name, had been tugging at her mind for weeks. She knew from the start that she had made a dire mistake. Images flashed through her mind - orange light slanting across the floor of Dean's apartment ... empty words whispered in her ear ... the final fight only days later. Her poor judgement haunted her day and night, more so than any word from her mother would.

"So she finally figured it out."

Alex didn't even turn to look at her brother. "Only because you told her."

"She needed to know." Justin dropped the mocking voice. "She's right, this is a _very_ big thing, and you can't deal with it on your own."

"Shut up." Alex clamped a hand over her mouth, willing the entire loft to vanish. She needed to be alone, but foremost, she needed a trash can.

Sighing, Justin passed her and continued to his bedroom. He was fully dressed, with his dark hair combed and a fresh pack of floss in one hand. His perfection was sickening.

As the bedroom door slammed shut, the bathroom door cracked open and Max appeared, his cheeks red and water dripping from his hair. With wide eyes focused on the carpet, he hurried past his sister without a word.

* * *

"But how did he figure it out?" Harper asked for the third time. She pursed her lips and screwed up her brow in concentration.

Alex shrugged. The crowded hall of Tribeca Prep was the very last place she wanted to be, with her bed topping the list and the city morgue coming in a close second. There was too much laughter, too many couples nuzzling in corners.

"Well... Have you told Dean yet?"

Alex's fingers faltered on her locker's dial. "Not yet," she muttered. "Haven't gotten the chance." _And I don't plan on it either_. It was not a mere rumor that Dean had already found a new girlfriend. Her name was Lauren, or something to the effect, and she wore dark red lipstick.

Harper frowned. "He really does have the right to know." As menacing as her stage whisper was meant to be, it was dulled by the school-bus yellow of Harper's handmade dress, adorned with felt bananas.

Alex took a long, deep breath. "I'll tell him, alright? I'll call him over the weekend." She wasn't sure whether or not she meant it, but Harper appeared satisfied.

"Good." She crossed her arms over her chest. "I just think it's the right thing to do."

"So do _I_," Alex said, a scowl on her face, "but that doesn't mean he's going to care."

Harper wrinkled her brow in concern. "He'll care, I'm sure of it. It's his ba-"

"What eighteen-year-old guy really wants a kid?" The locker door slammed shut, and Alex looked at Harper with a sarcastic sneer. Harper muttered an apology and followed her best friend down the hallway.

"You know," she said carefully as they entered their classroom, "I think you would be a lot happier if you started telling the truth-"

"I _don't _need a _lecture_, Harper."

Harper pouted, but closed her mouth. There was no arguing with an angry Alex. In fact, she mused, there was no arguing with Alex at all.

_This is going to be a long nine months_.

* * *

Max Russo had a bad feeling. It had been nagging at him from deep inside his chest ever since he had woken up that morning, and even a long, hot shower and sugary cereal in front of the TV had not calmed his nerves.

When he did not fall asleep in geography, he knew something was wrong.

"_Psst_." Max felt a gentle tap on his shoulder, and turned his head. Behind him a tall, red-haired boy grinned.

"You still coming tomorrow, right?"

Max pursed his lips for a moment. His thoughts were lagging. "Um, yeah," he whispered. "Halloween party. I'll be there."

"Cool." Sean's grin widened, revealing black-banded braces. "Can't wait to break out the martian suit. Bummer that your mom won't let you dye your-"

"Shut it, Mr. Willis, or you're butt's going to the principal's office." Sean shied away under the glare of the horse-faced Mrs. Downing, and Max turned around to face the board. Mrs. Downing was writing something about Oceania in blocky letters.

Max looked up at the teacher. "Can I go to the restroom?"

"It'd better be an emergency."

The air in the hall was refreshingly cool. For the first time, Max noticed that he was sweating. It seemed logical to visit the nurse, but what he really needed to do clear his head.

_Maybe I'm coming down with a serious disease_, Max imagined as he strolled the hallway, taking bites of some taffy he had found in his pocket. _By the time I get home, I'll be covered head to toe in big, purple spots. There's no way Mom's making me do my homework tonight! ... Actually, she'd probably call an ambulance if I had purple spots. That wouldn't be too bad - I'd totally get to ride in a gurney. But what if this disease is so rare that no one knows about it, and then I'll die at the hospital? ... Death would be kind of exciting. I mean, if you could come back afterwards and all._

He had been standing by the window, chewing taffy, for quite awhile before he noticed Alex. She was crouched on a wooden bench, earbuds in her ears, making herself small. Every so often she would glance up at her brother with annoyance.

"What're you doing here?" She removed the headphones and sneered in apparent disgust.

Max shrugged, forcing a smile. "I, um, didn't feel well. I needed some air." There was a long pause, then he added, "What about you?"

"Skipping. It's none of your business." She tugged at the sleeves of her sweatshirt.

"Well..." Max began to walk away, "it's been nice talking to you."

"Wait." Alex's words surprised both siblings, and she clapped her hand over her mouth. Removing it, she gave Max a faint smile. "So I'm trying this new honesty thing," she said hesitantly, "and I thought I'd start with you."

"Okay?" Max raised one eyebrow.

"How do you feel about being an uncle?"

He faltered, then the corners of his mouth raised into a sweet smile. "Can I play with their toys and use them to get on kiddie rides?"

Alex couldn't help but chuckle.

"Sweet." Max had already known - however serious the subject, Justin could not help but blab about his discovery. It was part of his prying nature.

There was a long pause between the two, during which Max produced another wad of taffy and offered some to a sugar-craving Alex. For several minutes the two sat with their knees touching, their jaws popping as they chewed on the sticky candy. When the bell rang, they quickly separated and began to go their own ways.

Max really did love his sister, in spite of the taunting and pummeling. He guessed that it just came naturally to siblings, except perhaps his father and sulking aunt. Then again, it seemed unlikely that Alex thought of her brothers as any more than brainless punching bags. Things would only get worse from here - Max knew very little about pregnancy, but he did know that it meant a monstrous appetite and a lot of bad words. It was almost comical to think of Alex stuffing her face at three in the morning. As he returned to his classroom, he dreamed vaguely of videotaping the whole thing.

* * *

A final bell rang at four thirty, marking the end of detention. Alex marveled that her class-skipping had not yet gotten her expelled. It would be much easier on the staff, she imagined. Through the tall front windows of Tribeca Prep, Alex could see rain falling in grey sheets. Groaning, she pulled her thick hair back and tried to cover her backpack with her arms. The front door was heavy, and by the time she made it through her face was already dripping.

"Shit, my mascara!" Alex stomped through the puddles on the front steps, conscious of black trails forming on her cheeks.

"Too bad you don't have an umbrella."

Alex's chest swelled with hatred as she saw Justin sitting on a bench to her left. He was reclined with his arms resting on the back of the bench; rain ran off of an invisible bubble that encircled him.

"I hate you," Alex said, wiping her face. Traces of black makeup showed on her fists. "What're you even doing here?"

"I'm your chaperone. Mom and Dad seem to think you need one." He paused for a moment. "Can't say I disagree."

Alex kicked him in the shin, warranting a loud curse.

"Hey, hey," he said, "I don't like it anymore than you do." As he spoke he reached under the bench and pulled out two small umbrellas. Alex snatched hers, opened it, and began to stalk off.

The rain picked up after only a few minutes, and the umbrellas did little good. By the time they reached the entrance to the Sub Station they were both dripping with cold rain. When Alex muttered about magic transportation, Justin replied, "It was for your own good. I mean, do you _really_ want to be killed by Mom? Believe me, she's fairly homicidal today."

This turned out to be quite true. All day Alex had been dreading her mother's wrath, and Theresa did not disappoint.

"You're dripping all over the floor! _Ah mi Dios_, just put on something dry and start on your homework. I'll deal with you later. And don't you dare let me catch your mind wandering or your butt's not leaving this building till you're thirty!" There was more, mainly Spanish phrases. Alex figured that leaving wet footprints across the tile floor did nothing to lessen her mother's temper. She hurried upstairs, followed by Justin.

"As much as I would love to babysit you," Justin said as they entered their loft, "I'll be at Zeke's house. We have some costumes to finish."

Alex said nothing. She flung her backpack onto the floor so hard that Max, who was seated at the counter with a sandwich, nearly toppled over in surprise. Then, with her shoulders hunched and her eyes set on the floor, she stomped up the stairs and slammed her door. As soon as she was truly alone, she fell face-first into her bed and began to shake with sobs.

She could hardly believe it herself. She had only cried three times in her memory: once out of sappy joy at her _quinceneara, _once during the fateful vacation to Puerto Rico, and again after the harsh break-up with Dean. Pregnancy seemed to be taking its toll on her - once she started sobbing, she could not seem to stop herself. Her face became red and pinched, and she was soon gasping for breath. Her hands clutched at the pillow shams, desperate to rip them apart. After nearly ten minutes her body finally calmed down, and she fell into a restless sleep.

It was almost six when she was awoken by the buzzing of her cell phone. Groggy and disoriented, she pulled her phone out of her back pocket and blinked at it like an amnesiac. Flipping it open, she answered with a weak, "Hello?"

"Hey, I wasn't sure if you'd gotten your phone taken away or something, but I called anyway, obviously. How are you feeling? Your mom said you were working on homework?"

"Harper..." Alex wanted to tell her best friend to shut up and leave her in peace, but she was too lethargic to close her phone. "I'm doing alright," she said with a sigh.

"Good. I stopped by to visit, but your parents have me bussing tables now for the dinner rush. Ooh, and I have something important to tell you."

Alex sensed tension in Harper's voice. "Shoot."

"Dean's here. He has his girlfriend with him."

The phone nearly fell to the floor, but Alex caught it in her shaking hands. "Dean's here?" she repeated. "Dean and his girlfriend..."

"Yeah. Lauren, the one with the black bob and the scary makeup. She just ordered black coffee and a ham and cheese without the ham..." Harper continued to prattle, but Alex heard nothing after "Dean's here". _Dean's here_. _Dean's in the Sub Station_. It echoed in Alex's head.

"I'll be down there in five minutes." The words slipped out of her mouth before she could catch them.

"Alex!" Harper sounded appalled. "You know you can't leave. You'll only get in more trouble!"

"No. No, I won't." Alex was forming a plan. "I won't get in trouble, because it won't be me coming downstairs."

"You know, I can just take a picture with my phone. That would be a lot less risky-"

Alex closed her phone and tossed it back in her purse. She could not get out of her room fast enough. _What was that spell again_? Her mind raced as she crossed the living room, headed for the stairs. She crept down two steps and peered into the kitchen; Max was still sitting at the counter, his nose in a comic book. Perfect.

Once she opened her mouth, the body switching spell came naturally. Screw the bugs, she thought. It would be worth it just to catch a glimpse of Dean.

_"... Corpora, Sua Nominavi." _The last syllable escaped her lips, and she felt herself being lifted out of her own body_._

Faintly, as if through a thick wall, she heard a loud crash. At first she felt alarm, but a more dire problem arose:

Everything had gone black.

It was a mystery how all of Manhattan did not hear the crash. Max sat frozen at the kitchen counter, wondering if the loft might come down around him. It seemed likely. He would be dead at any moment, buried in the rubble. No one would find his body beneath the wreckage...

All at once, a searing pain cut across his eyes, and his vision went dark. Max sank onto a bar stool, his head in his hands. _Maybe I'm dying_, he thought vaguely. _Dude, Mom's gonna be bummed. Or is everyone dead? Mom and Dad and Alex are still in the building. Oh no, Justin's gonna be all alone! Maybe I'll come back as a ghost, and I'll get to haunt the loft and scare him. That would kind of rock._

Max opened his eyes. The kitchen was still there. He was still sitting at the bar, clutching his head. Everything was alright. Groaning, Max stood up and rubbed at his temples. As he turned towards the back windows, squinting from the dull ache, he noticed something quite out of place.

At the foot of the iron stairs, lying face down with her black hair fanned out, was Alex.

Max crossed the kitchen in a few long strides, but when he reached his sister he recoiled. There was something terrible and unnatural about the way she had landed. She had crumpled at an odd angle, her limp arms and legs twisted about like a puzzle.

"Alex?" His voice was weak with fright. She wasn't moving; not a muscle stirred. Max leaned in closer and shook her shoulder. There was no response. She wasn't breathing, he saw with horror. Her face was stark white, and her neck was bent too far to the side. A cold fist took hold of his lungs.

"Mom! Dad!" Max hardly heard himself screaming. He felt himself rise to his feet, stumble, and collapse again. "Help! Somebody!" Tears rushed down his cheeks without his knowledge. The piercing pain returned to his head at once, and his screaming faded to a whisper. His face buried in the carpet, he was again overcome with the certainty that he was about to die.

"Honey! My goodness, what's-"

Max never heard the door open, but the sound of his mother's frantic footsteps as she sprinted across the room startled him into a sitting position.

"What happened?" Theresa was on the floor, checking her daughter's pulse, her forehead, everything that could be checked.

"She fell," Max blubbered. "All the way down the stairs." He rubbed a fist across his eyes, feeling foolish. Theresa was here now - of course Alex would be alright.

"Jerry! Hurry!" Theresa was yelling down the stairs now, and the building seemed to shake with the pounding of feet. Max burrowed farther into his coat, his eyes squeezed shut and his jaw clenched. Theresa called 911. Jerry called Justin and nearly shouted into the receiver. Crouched on the floor in his corner, Max tried to wrap his mind around what was happening. His sister was dead. His sister was dead, and she wasn't coming back. He was never going to see her again. The realization brought on another wave of tears. He felt dizzy. He felt sick. His head was going to split open.

Then, clear as a phone clutched to his ear, Max heard a familiar voice. It seemed to come from deep inside his mind, and a deep chill ran up his back.

"_Where the hell am I?"_

_

* * *

_

**Full Summary**: When a body-switching spell goes horribly wrong, Alex is killed ... or at least her body is. At first sharing Max's head seemed like an easy way out of death. But three tormenting years later, both Alex and Max have decided it's time for her to be put to rest. The tough part? Max is pretty sure grave-robbing is a crime. The siblings' final escapade proves to be difficult, especially when the goal is losing Alex forever.

_**Rated T** for language._

_**A/N**: I'm sorry this chapter was so long - I actually cut off about 1000 words. My goal was to get everything that takes place in 2008 into one chapter, but that didn't quite work out. Another note - while I watch the show whenever I can, I'm not super informed about everything. For example, i couldn't remember the body switching spell. If anyone knows it by heart, please tell me and I'll correct it. Also, I played around with the ages a little bit. All I knew was that Justin and Alex are one year apart. In this story they are 17 and 16 respectively, and Max is 13 (before he hit puberty and got curly hair)._

_Thanks for reading this far._


	2. Leave

_**A/N**__: A short explanation for this chapter might be needed. I wasn't really sure how to designate the thought-conversations between Alex and Max, so I put her "dialogue" in italics and his are underlined. Hers will always be in italics, even after she gains control of his speech. As of now, however, the only way they communicate is by mental conversations._

_I do not own _Wizards_.

* * *

_

_**Leave [**_**lēv**_**] **__- verb; to depart from permanently._

_"Sunny skies over Manhattan, but with highs in the forties you'd better bundle up..."_

Harper frowned. She had been doing a great deal of that in the past few weeks, even with the threat of wrinkles later in life. She had been scowling, crying, yelling, but now she was just tired. She wanted to dig a deep hole in a pile of leaves and stay there for awhile.

The Russo loft was painfully recognizable, even in the midst of packing. The furniture was gone and cardboard boxes were stacked halfway to the ceiling, but marks had been made in the apartment itself._There_ was where Harper had spilled green salsa. _There _was where she had tripped and split her head open on the tile floor at three in the morning. And _there_ was the staircase. The culprit. The reason behind her final visit.

Severe cerebral contusion. That was the official cause of death. Harper did not quite know what a cerebral contusion was, but when Jerry explained that it meant bruising of the brain the girl nearly passed out. A hospital nurse had to bring her a paper cup of apple juice.

Harper had stayed at the hospital until five in the morning. She was not quite sure why. There was nothing to see except a handful of doctors and staff passing around the terms "mortuary" and "organ donor". She liked to think she was morally supporting Max and Justin, but they seemed to be handling devastation nicely on their own. Justin consumed five bottles of Dr. Pepper, then fell into a deep sugar crash - even as he slept small, neat tears rolled down his cheeks. Max, on the other hand, seemed entirely detached. He had his legs pulled up into his plastic chair, and he kept wincing as if from a loud noise. He appeared frightfully small in his winter coat.

"There's um, still some orange juice in the refrigerator, if you're thirsty or anything."

Justin's voice came muffled from the other side of the counter. He was crouched with his head in a cabinet, pulling out pots and pans and placing them in a cardboard box.

"Do you need help?" Harper asked meekly, ignoring his question. She couldn't stomach anything.

Justin looked up from the floor, a sort of slow comprehension in his eyes. "No, thank you. I think I've got it."

Harper rested her head on the counter. The radio was crackling out "Who Says You Can't Go Home". Bright morning sun streamed in through the terrace doors. Squinting in the light, Harper frowned again. Sitting on the cement floor of the terrace, looking deathly serious, was Max. He wore pajama pants and a large sweatshirt, with a knit beanie over his soft hair. It was a caricature of his appearance at the hospital.

"Justin," Harper began to say. Her voice sounded terribly loud in the large room. "Do you think I should go check on Max? He looks-"

"I know." Justin shrugged. "But he's never been sad before. This is probably normal." He didn't sound like he half believed his own words.

Harper turned back towards the windows, and as her eyes passed over the familiar space a wave of deep, sudden realization washed through her chest, and tears began to gather in her eyes. In moments her shoulders were shaking.

"Hey, it's alright..." Justin set down the pans and came around the island in one fluid motion. Harper felt a large hand on her back. She knew she should be ecstatic, but the gentle stroking of Justin's fingers only made her sob harder.

"I know this is really hard for you." Justin wrapped his arms around her in a stiff, uneasy embrace. "She loved you so much - more than she ever loved me."

"That's not true." Harper wrinkled her dripping nose. Her eyes were pinched and red.

"Believe me," Justin said with an ironic smile. "I know my sister."

There was a deep silence, and a voice in Harper's head filled it in: _You _knew_ your sister, you mean_.

"I really hate that you're leaving New York," Harper said for the sake of making noise.

Justin patted the back of her head; his movements were sharp and mechanical. "Me too." He pulled back, and something in his face softened. "If you ever need anything, just call."

Harper looked up, touched at his kindness. She wiped her eyes on one sleeve and opened her mouth to speak, but Justin was already back to his pots and pans.

It could not have been far above freezing outside, but Max was hardly aware. He had stopped noticing things lately. That was the first big change. In the cold of the late November morning he made quite a spectacle, with a hat pulled down over his brow and flannel pajamas that fell past his bare feet.

_Go back in. I want to see Harper_.

Max turned towards the window so that he could make out the figure of the red-headed girl. Are you happy now?

_You know what I mean!_

It's not like you can talk to her.

_But I can at least look at her_.

I don't want to go in there.

_God, you're so selfish!_

Max grimaced; he had made her yell again.

If you stop being so loud I'll go back in, okay?

_That's all I ask_.

He rose up from the cement tiles, barely registering that his fingers and toes were numb. His shallow breaths escaped in white clouds. Looking through the picture windows, he saw Justin crouched behind the kitchen counter, while a tearful Harper looked on. He wanted nothing more than to curl back up in the terrace corner, but then Alex would start shrieking again. That was worse than the endless wailing she had emitted while at the hospital, or the deafening commentary she had kept up during her own funeral. Theresa had bawled; Jerry had kept a blank face; Justin had struggled to keep his eyes away from the casket; Max had spent the entirety of the service grinding his teeth as Alex prattled in angry disbelief.

The patio door opened without a sound; Max's entry went unnoticed. He padded over the the table, where he took a seat and cast furtive glances at Harper.

_Maybe this is punishment. Damn, I bet that's it._

Huh?

_For getting pregnant, doofus._

"Hey, buddy." Justin spoke softly when he caught sight of his brother. "You all packed up?"

Max shrugged. "Pretty much." His eyes drifted over to Harper, who was gazing languidly at the clock radio. She had no idea that her best friend was watching her from behind Max's eyes, struggling to make his voice work. But they had an agreement, enforced by Alex herself - no one could know what had really happened. If someone found out, she insisted, they would try to put her back into her own body, and she would be dead forever. That was the last thing they wanted.

She was just now learning how hard it was to keep the secret.

"The moving truck just pulled up!" Jerry's voice came from upstairs. "I want to be on the road in an hour."

Harper slid off of her stool. "Well," she said, her sad eyes focused on the floor, "I guess I should be leaving."

_No! Not yet!_ _Max, make her stay!_

"I, uh, hope to see you soon." Justin smiled briefly, and escorted her towards the door.

_Dammit, I want to say goodbye! Harper, wait! Don't leave, I have to talk to you! I'M RIGHT HERE!_

Max felt a chill go down his left arm. Without warning, it began to move. He watched with wide eyes as it stretched and strained forwards, nearly pulling him out of his seat. The fingers curled weakly, grasping for empty air.

Alex was reaching for Harper.

Max felt a sudden jolt of power, and before he knew it he was pulled out of his chair and onto the floor, landing harshly on his knees. Justin and Harper were already gone, the door left open behind them. Feeling returned to Max's arm, and he relaxed against the table leg. For the first time, his head was filled with deep silence.

As he rubbed his bruised knees and watched his parents haul boxes downstairs, he could have sworn he heard someone crying.

* * *

_**A/N**: This concludes the portion of the story that takes place in 2008 - the next chapter skips to 2011, which I am very excited about. _


	3. Change

_**A/N**: I made up Hartford, NY. It has no relation to Harford, NY, which I discovered later._

* * *

_**change [ch ānj]** - verb; to make or become another substance entirely; to transform_

**_August 26, 2011_**

The Waverly Sub Station was even more popular in Hartford than it had been in the city. A surprising number of the town's five thousand citizens had never been in an actual subway station, so the fluorescent lights and urban atmosphere pulled them in like curious children, entranced by the restaurant and it's "big city" owners. Even after three years of business, it was packed every Friday night by teenaged couples and harried soccer moms with small herds of children.

"What can I get you?" Max stifled a yawn as he uncapped his pen.

"Hmm..." The girl pursed her glossy lips and squinted in concentration. "What do you have that's vegetarian?"

Sighing, Max pointed to the words "Veggie Wrap" on the front of the menu.

_What an idiot! How in the world did Anna make it to the eleventh grade?_

Shut up.

"Will that be all?" Max glanced around the table. Five pairs of heavily lined eyes stared back, set into slightly orange, sarcastically smiling faces. With a listless nod, he trudged towards the kitchen, well aware of the mocking whispers behind him. It had been the same every day for the past three years; at some point, he had stopped caring.

_Don't let people talk about you like that_, Alex scolded. _God, leave it to me to get a wimpy freak for a brother_.

Max did not answer. Walking into the humid kitchen, he slapped the notepad onto the counter and motioned to Theresa, who was folding slices of roast beef for a sandwich. She was singing something to herself in Spanish.

"I'm going to bed." He motioned to the clock, which read 8:36 in large, red numbers.

"This early?" Theresa pulled a face of motherly concern. "Are you sick? Let me check your forehead-"

Max ducked out of her reach. "Just a headache, that's all."

Theresa took the notepad and scanned the orders. Glancing into the dining area, she got a devious smile on her face. "Isn't that that Anna girl from your school? The blonde one, with the little jacket?"

"I guess so." He untied his apron, looking anywhere but at his mother.

"She's cute. I don't see why you can't ask _her_ to the Homecoming Dance."

"Because I'm not going," Max said bluntly. "That's why."

_Because you're a loser, that's why_.

Theresa shook her head. "Hope you feel better, sweetie. Take some Tylenol. Good night." She kissed him on the forehead and went back to the sandwich.

The restaurant was attached to the side of the Russos' home, and a door in the kitchen took Max directly to the back stairwell. He flicked a switch, illuminating the hallway. The whole house smelled of bread and meat, and he felt nauseated as he climbed the stairs.

_I wish you'd let me knock that girl's veneers into her tiny brain. I'm so sick of that stupid, airhead act._

"Yeah, that won't make me look schizo or anything," Max said. He groaned as his arm lifted up and made a slapping gesture towards his own cheek.

_Stop hitting yourself. Stop hitting yourself_. She chuckled at her own joke.

"Oh, real mature." He purposely veered so that his fingers slammed into the corner of the handrail, causing Alex to yelp. When she had control of his body, Max had been pleased to learn, she felt the pain herself.

Max kicked his bedroom door open and, without turning on the lights, collapsed onto his bed's bottom bunk. His back fell on something hard - his cell phone. Flipping it open, he saw he had a missed call. He quickly hit "Send" and kept his fingers crossed.

"Hey, buddy. What's up?"

Hearing Justin's voice was always a reassurance, in part because he was the only other person on the planet who knew about Alex. Even after three years, Alex was firm in her decision to keep their parents in the dark, and Max went along.

"I just saw that you called. How's school?"

"It's work," Justin answered, but Max could hear the fondness in his voice. Justin loved school, and he adored Columbia. That was why he never came home. "Now what's this I hear about you being suspended?"

Max pouted. "It wasn't my fault. Mr. Johnson called me dumb, so Alex told him to 'go hump a doorknob'."

Justin was quiet for a moment, but Max knew he was stifling a laugh. It would have been funny to him as well if it had not gotten him suspended. It was thanks to Alex's outbursts that he was being medicated for bipolar disorder. That was nothing to laugh about.

"So," Justin said, "I'm coming home the weekend before Halloween. You gonna dress up this year?"

_"You don't have to avoid it, we all know why you're finally showing up_." Max winced as soon as Alex's words made it out of his mouth.

"Nice to hear from you, sis'." Justin had come to tell the difference - if Max sounded enthusiastic, it was more than likely Alex speaking.

_"Let's pretend the feeling's mutual. Damn, I'm so sick of celebrating my death. If I have to watch those home movies one more time I'm gonna explode!"_

"Aw, be nice. It's just 'cause they love you."

_"News flash - it's time to move on, pe-" _Max clapped a hand over his mouth. Stop that. My throat's starting to hurt.

"Well," Justin said after a moment, "it was great to hear from, uh, both of you. I have loads of homework, though, so I'd better get started..."

Max muttered a goodbye, then chucked his phone across the room as hard as he could manage.

* * *

Justin was concerned. He was always concerned, actually, about his grades, his health, his appearance, his friends and family. Now, he could not get his little brother off of his mind.

The Russos had been living in Hartford for almost a month when Max came clean about Alex. Justin had not been shocked so much as relieved, as Max's behavior had already begun to change. He closed himself in his room; he snapped at his parents; he never slept at night. He was far too serious for a thirteen-year-old boy.

Three years later, things were only getting worse. Justin tried to stay upbeat about it by ignoring the downsides and appreciating that Alex was still alive in a sense. He kept conversations with his family positive, and it had been his own idea to celebrate October 30th by eating Alex's favorite meal - enchiladas - and watching old home videos. He knew it must be hard on Alex, but so far she had yet to cause a disruption. At least in her twisted mind she still seemed to love her parents.

Putting on a smile, Justin sat down at his desk and opened a large textbook. He was just sharpening a new pencil when his eyes wandered to his collection of family photos, neatly framed in the window sill. His parents and siblings stared back in positive poses, with friendly smiles on their faces. They were rare photos, documenting the few moments of family unity that had been captured on film. Everyone was smiling at the camera - even Alex - and they all appeared to be having a wonderful time. Picture perfect. Justin admired them for a few seconds, then jumped right into a page of physics problems.

* * *

_**A/N**: Please tell me if Max is coming across as stereotypically emo, because that's not what I was going for. I was going more for cynical and apathetic._


	4. Rumor

_**A/N**: I feel pretty dumb - I've had this chapter written for two weeks, but I entirely forgot to post it. Instead I was working on finishing chapter five. Sorry for the wait._

* * *

_**rumor **_**|ˈroōmər| - **_noun; a currently circulating story or report of uncertain or doubtful truth._

Hartford High School had risen right out of Hell, Max was sure of it. The clean brick walls, cheery yellow flowers, and sunny courtyard might suggest otherwise, but inside it was populated by the worst demons on Earth. He was waiting for the day his history teacher, Principal Johnson, sprouted horns.

"Hey, Max!" Anna's black heels clicked on the floor as she approached him. She batted her thick lashes, and Max briefly imagined her eyes glowing red. "How was your weekend?"

He opened his locker and set his can of Dr. Pepper inside. Unzipping his backpack he said, "Nothing special."

Pamela, a pretty Indian girl with glossy extensions, pulled a surprised face. "You didn't go to the party down at the psyche ward? I heard it was rockin'."

Alex, don't you dare say anything. "No, I had to miss it this year." He smirked.

"What, didn't want to miss an engaging conversation with yourself?" It was Liz this time, a brunette with bronzer layered onto her gaunt cheeks. The other girls sniggered, except for Anna.

"See you in history," she said as she motioned to her friends. They weren't quite out of earshot when Anna remarked, "What a freak. No wonder his sister threw herself down the stairs."

The can of cola had already been launched before Max knew what was happening. He felt a familiar tingling in his arm as he watched dark liquid drip down the back of Anna's cardigan. The hallway went silent, eyes divided between Anna, who was hunched over like a monster preparing to attack, and Max, who could only stare back in horror.

"You freak!" Anna screeched. "You're paying for this, every last cent!" She furiously wiped at her blonde hair, which was splattered with cola.

Max was silent. He wanted to yell that he didn't mean to, but that would have been a lie. It would have happened without Alex's control, he felt certain.

"Max Russo, my office - _now_!"

* * *

Another suspension. That was the punishment for splashing Dr. Pepper down Anna Barry's back, it turned out, and Principal Johnson executed it with delight. An hour later, Max was sulking in the passenger seat of Theresa's car.

"What the hell got into you?" It had been silent thus far, but Theresa broke the pause with a sudden outburst.

Max looked intently at the overcast sky. "She said Alex killed herself to get away from me."

Theresa's breath caught in her throat. "Oh, honey..."

"It's no big deal."

"If that's true, then why did you pour your drink on her? And didn't I tell you not to drink soda in the morning?"

_"She deserved it_." Alex word's slipped out before Max could react.

Theresa shook her head and frowned. "I don't understand what's going on with you. Why don't you talk to me about it?"

"Nothing to talk about," Max lied.

The rest of the car ride was silent. As they pulled into the driveway Theresa said, "Don't forget, you have an appointment with Dr. Love at four."

_Another person who needs to just lay down and die_.

Dr. Love is nice. She's only doing her job.

_She thinks you're a head case._

Which I kind of am, thanks to you.

_I resent that._

Max trudged up the stairs to his bedroom and collapsed into his desk chair, the lights still off. He could still feel the sting of Anna's shrill voice, and the anger had yet to recede. It was not the first time Anna and her posse had hit close to home. Usually it was about his parents' finances or the misconceived jab that he had grown up on the streets. This was, however, the first time Anna had dared to bring up Alex.

Anna had first learned about Alex from her gossip queen mother, who had heard it through a friend of the wife of the man who had sold the Russos' their new home. The tragic "dead daughter" story had gone through several phases since then. Initially, Alex was rumored to have been kidnapped and murdered, a story which evolved into the whole family being held at gunpoint. This faded into a more believable tale that she had been struck by a taxi, and then into a fateful tumble into the river. Theresa was the one who clarified the cause of death as falling down a spiral staircase, but this was soon warped into a supposed suicide.

Alex had killed herself - this had become the most widely accepted story amongst Hartford's intrusive housewives.

_Hey_, Alex interrupted his thoughts. _Turn on the TV. Let's see if _Wife Swap_ is on_.

"They don't show that anymore." Max shook his head. "And I don't feel like watching TV. I'm gonna go back to sleep." He started to make a move for the pajamas scattered across his mattress, but Alex pulled him towards the door. He held onto the post of his bunk bed. It was almost comical how his legs stretched back across the floor, toes pointed at the hallway. He thought briefly of a movie character caught in the path of a tornado.

"Stop doing that!" he nearly shouted, aware that his mother was in earshot.

_Jerk_. Alex relinquished control after one final stretch, and Max tumbled to the floor. _You're so selfish!_

"And you're a big baby."

_Baby? You're fourteen and you still eat Spider-Man macaroni_.

Max gave an exasperated groan. "I'm sixteen, Alex. And Mom hasn't bought Spider-Man macaroni since the last time Justin was home." He changed into his flannel pajama pants and pulled back the covers on the bottom bunk.

As he tried to fall asleep, he kept hearing the words in his head like a chant: _You're fourteen. _How could Alex forget his age? She had seen his sixteenth birthday through his eyes, and tortured him to no end about not being able to drive. Something was wrong with her lately. It was like the passing of time wasn't affecting her. She treated age-old incidents like recent offenses on her brothers' parts. She still asked Max to tune into _Gossip Girl_.

For the first time, a disturbing thought nudged at the back of his mind:

Maybe Alex would be better off dead.

* * *

_**A/N**: A short chapter, but it just didn't belong with the events in the next one, which will be up very soon._


	5. Meet

_**A/N**: This chapter is double-length to make up for the pathetic chapter four._

_

* * *

_

_**Meet **_**|mēt| - **_verb; encounter or be faced with._

_ There was one thing about Columbia University that Justin admired above all:_

It had nothing to do with his old life.

He had only been within a few blocks of Waverly Place twice in three years. There was no real reason to go through Tribeca, even if it meant fond memories and former acquaintances. Justin had given up his old friends, hardly keeping in touch with them after the move. Even once he graduated and returned to the city, he tried to forget he had ever lived there. So far it was working. He viewed the city with excitement and curiosity instead of nostalgia. It kept him upbeat.

This self-deception was working so well, in fact, that Justin did not even take notice to the short, dark-haired girl in front of him in the grocery store line. She was carrying rye bread and Silk soy milk - he noticed that much. It was not until she turned to look at a chewing gum display that she saw him and exclaimed, "_Jesus Christ_!"

Justin was nearly dropped his wallet. The familiar voice exploded like a siren. When he caught his breath again, he found himself looking down at a teary-eyed Harper Finkel.

"Um... hi." He gave a weak smile, afraid from the red splotches on her cheeks that she might burst into tears. "How are you?"

"You're back in the city. Why didn't you tell me you were back in the city?" Harper said, sounding more hurt than angry. There was certainly no excitement in her voice.

Justin was not sure how to answer. He had been back for more than a year; there was no believable excuse. "I don't know," he admitted. "I've been busy with school, I just didn't think-"

"You didn't think I would want to see you?" Harper had reached the counter, and she thrust the loaf of bread at the cashier with such force that he nearly stumbled. She caught herself before her anger grew anymore, however. "Let's not argue," she said, her cheeks flushed. She swiped her credit card and pursed her lips.

"Alright." Justin was still in partial shock. He had never expected this. He had never even imagined this. Despite their shaky former friendship, Harper had not crossed his mind in months. From the hurt in her voice, he guessed that the feeling was not mutual. "How are you?" he repeated as he paid for his groceries.

Harper looked indignant for a moment, but her expression settled into a slight frown. "I've been okay."

"Where are you in school?"

"I'm not."

Justin raised one eyebrow. Harper was not in college? It seemed implausible.

Seeing the look on Justin's face, Harper was quick to explain. "My parents are divorcing. They both wanted me to themselves for moral support."

"Wow." Justin was at a loss for words. "That's, uh, too bad." He had always known that Harper's parents were estranged from each other and he had always felt bad hearing about their problems. Still, something about the situation made him feel guilty. While he was cutting himself off from his old life Harper had been dealing with this.

"What about you?" Harper asked. "Are you still on track to become the family _you-know-what_?" She gave the cashier a nervous glance, but he was busy scanning Justin's purchases.

Justin nodded. "I guess so. My parents kind of stopped teaching Max, so it's pretty certain."

"Oh." Harper looked down at her boots, ashamed for having brought up what must have been a sensitive topic. "And how is Max doing? He's sixteen now, right?"

"He's..." For a moment, Justin had the insane idea to tell Harper the truth. As Alex's best friend in life, it seemed fair. He ignored this impulse, however, and said, "He's fine. He's matured a lot. You probably wouldn't recognize him."

This made Harper smile for the first time. Still, there was something missing from her appearance. Her cheeks were thinner; her hair had been dyed a deep auburn; there was not an inch of felt or plastic in her outfit, which consisted of corduroys and a grey hooded sweater. The big difference was in her expression. There was no passion, no crazy emotion in her eyes. It made Justin want to look away.

As they walked out of the store, Justin instinctively took Harper's bag from her. She thanked him, and for a long while they stood in the cool afternoon and watched people hurry past. It was a mystery to both as to why they did not separate immediately. Finally, Harper broke the silence. "Do you have time to come back to my apartment for a little while? There's something I want to show you."

Once again stranded with no good excuses, Justin accepted.

Harper still lived in her parents' apartment, which meant a journey into Tribeca. Justin tried not to pay attention to the familiar buildings, particularly when they passed within sight of the former Sub Station. He turned his eyes up the street and followed Harper's slow, mechanical footsteps until they reached the stoop of her building. It was all horribly familiar. When they reached the door to her apartment, he actually felt a jolt in his chest. How many times had he dragged himself here late at night to retrieve Alex?

"Do you want some lemonade?" Harper asked as they passed through the door. She motioned for him to put the groceries down on a low table, and without waiting for a response she shuffled into the kitchen. Justin heard her open the refrigerator.

The small entryway was lined to an overwhelming extent with photographs. They varied in size and color, ranging from stiff black and whites to discolored drugstore prints, and there must have been at least fifty hanging from pegs on the wall or set atop small shelves. Each one was of Harper.

Justin walked the length of the foyer, uncomfortable beneath the gaze of a hundred brown eyes. A bald toddler showed off hands covered in pudding; a hammy eight-year-old strapped on roller skates; a high school senior wore a black drape and gave the camera a forced smile.

"Isn't it creepy?" Harper appeared at the kitchen door, holding two teacups of foggy lemonade. "I can't look at them - I feel like I'm being watched by some army of the undead. My mom made it as a sort of shrine, though, after my dad took me horseback riding for my birthday. I think they're competing."

"Over what?" Justin shied away from a photo that had been taken in front of the Sub Station.

"How much they can love me. They both think the other is at fault." She handed him a cup, then downed her own drink in two small sips. "Follow me." Harper gestured into what Justin knew to be the living room. It had not changed; dusty plastic slipcovers concealed the rigid furniture, and the white carpet was pristine. They did not stop there, however. They continued down a short hallway, right to Harper's bedroom.

"Um, what exactly do you want me to see?" Justin blinked though the dark doorway, but as soon as Harper flicked the light switch his breath caught in his throat.

The walls were covered with papers, uncountable papers, each filled with small, printed words and tacked up in neat rows. Some appeared to be thick stacks, while others were single slips, and they reached up to the ceiling.

"No one else knows about these," Harper said. She crossed the room and opened the blinds, causing Justin to shield his eyes.

"What are they?"

"Stories." She ran her fingers down one page, tracing it like a hieroglyphic. "Stories about you guys." Harper turned to look Justin in the eye and added, "Stories about all the adventures." She removed a tack and took down one collection of papers. "This one is about that time you guys hired the elf as a tutor, and the one behind you is about the school play you directed."

"Ah, don't remind me." Justin chuckled as he scanned the page. It read like a book, a well penned narrative of the _Peter Pan_ fiasco. "You're a good writer," he said, looking up at Harper. She blushed a little.

"Just something I do in my spare time. I still want to open a paint-a-plate store one day." She motioned to a shelf near her bed, where several ceramic plates, all hand painted with colorful designs, were on display.

"That's great," Justin muttered, but his mind was still fixed on the papers. It was unreal, but in a way, heartbreaking. Harper never stopped thinking about the Russos. Remembering them had become a hobby, or an obsession judging from the multitude of stories.

Harper sat down on her bed and fiddled with her hair clip. "Justin?" She smiled, and for a moment the old sparkle appeared. "I really like seeing you. We should get together sometime and catch up, alright?"

It took Justin several seconds to process her words - was Harper really asking him to hang out? That was proof enough that she had changed in the past three years.

"Sure," Justin said, hesitant about sparking anything.

Harper gave a small, simple smile. "I can't wait." Then, after a long pause, "Justin, could you tell me about the Ruby Donahue movie again?"

* * *

"Any thoughts of suicide this week, Max?"

Dr. Margie Love was in her fifties, with salt and pepper hair and sensible clothing. Her pantsuit perfectly matched the tan walls, and her thick glasses made her eyes look buggy. Max could hardly look her in the eye without feeling embarrassed. Did she know she had a breadcrumb stuck to her upper lip? On the other hand, Dr. Love had come the closest to discovering Alex. She called her bipolar II disorder.

She was also intent on the idea that Max was suicidal.

"_Oh, just the usual_." The psychiatrist's office was the one place Max allowed Alex to take over. _"You know, stepped out in front of a few buses, took a nap with my head in the oven, OD-ed on Ibuprofen... take your pick."_

Dr. Love was not amused - her face wrinkled in ugly concentration. "Your, um, mother told me you poured Coke on a girl's shirt?" She raised one eyebrow.

"_She had it coming," _Alex began, but Max cut in.

"She said my sister killed herself," he said, putting on his best "paranoid" face. "Said she threw her_self_ down the stairs 'cause she couldn't stand me."

Dr. Love adjusted her glasses. "And how did that make you feel?"

_You've gotta be kidd-_ "Pissed off. They didn't know her!" He slouched down in his chair, frowning dramatically. A fake tear completed the act.

_Good work_. Alex's voice was devious and amused. _You make me proud_.

Can I get that in writing?

The remainder of the session passed in a similar manner. Dr. Love would ask completely serious questions, while Max and Alex made a game out of playing up his supposed condition. It was the closest to fun either of them got.

"Well, Max," Dr. Love said when the clock struck five, "I think we've made some progress." She sniffled and pushed up the side of her glasses. "Don't forget to keep up your journal." The journal, a shabby composition book, was where Max was supposed to keep track of his manic and depressive episodes for the purpose of discovering a trigger. He and Alex pulled out the journal once a week and fabricated an interesting assortment or mood swings, such as, _October 2 - slept on floor for eleven hours _or _October 3 - consumed whole jar of pickles and built time machine._

Theresa spoke with Dr. Love for a few minutes, and Max lingered in the hall near a water fountain, giving dark glares to passing patients and doctors. He could hear Alex chuckling in his mind as a mother ushered her gloomy teenaged daughter towards the door, muttering something about "not right in the head".

_See, Max_, Alex said as they waited, _we still have fun!_

There was something strange about her voice, though. Max thought he heard a tinge of persistence.

When did I ever say we didn't?

_You were thinking it. Earlier today_... Alex trailed off, suddenly sheepish.

Max's eyes went wide. What do you mean I was 'thinking it'?

_In your room_, Alex blurted out. _You were annoyed with me for the whole TV thing._

Yeah, but I didn't think anything about not having fun. Max frowned. He knew Alex could read his feelings, but she had never called him out before. He felt a sudden, pressing guilt - did she know he had been wondering about her moving on? Death was a taboo topic between them, and he had no urge to get on Alex's bad side while she had access to his thoughts and actions.

I didn't mean it, Max lied.

They remained silent for a long time.

* * *

_**A/N**: It was brought to my attention that this story is becoming quite depressing. Sorry, but I'm just a sucker for a sob story, so sadness is kind of my thing. Thanks for reading, and thanks for all of the great reviews!_


	6. Friend

_**A/N**: Another ridiculously short chapter, but it didn't fit with the next one XD_

* * *

_**friend |frend| -** noun; a familiar or helpful thing**.**_

"I always liked the name Julia." Harper tapped the page with her finger.

"What's it mean?"

"'Youthful'. That fits her perfectly, huh?"

It had been two weeks since their initial meeting, and Justin still could not comprehend what he was doing in Harper Finkel's apartment, sipping hot chocolate and watching the auburn-haired girl make notes on a yellow legal pad. A duet between Sheryl Crow and Sting played softly on the radio, and there was a slight rustling as Harper flipped the pages of the baby name book.

He had agreed to help her with her stories; that was the official reason for his visits. With Justin's presence, Harper had developed the idea to expand her vast collection of memoirs into a full fiction novel. It was ambitious, but her reasoning was, _I'll need something to do while the plates are in the kiln, right_? Justin was there to provide details and moral support, but on a more personal level he enjoyed reliving some of their more agreeable adventures.

"Julia Connely. I like it." Looking satisfied, Harper laid down her green pen and gave Justin a proud smile. "Wanna order Chinese? We can finish watching _Star Wars_ if you like..." She motioned tentatively at the television.

"Sure," Justin said, because he liked both _Star Wars_ and chicken lo mein, no matter if he was sitting on Harper's couch. No, it had nothing to do with the company.

"Since you don't have classes tomorrow," she said as she reached for the phone, "I was wondering if you wanted to go flea-market-hopping again. It's not supposed to rain like last time."

"Sure," Justin repeated. The previous week he had found and secured a miniscule apartment to rent for his spring and summer semesters. Harper had been thrilled, appointing herself in charge of its furnishing. _You don't want to be like one of those brooding bohemians, do you? _she had said. _You know, the drafty-garret types who mutter poetry to themselves and spend all night hunched over a piano_? Justin pointed out that there was no danger of that, seeing as he hated poetry and a piano would not even fit in his new dwellings, but Harper was adamant.

"That'll be great. I still need to find some jewelry for my Halloween costume." There was a rustle as she flipped to a page near the front of the legal pad. On it was a ballpoint pen sketch of a faceless figure in a long, billowy skirt and an off-the-shoulder top. A kerchief was tied around its head and countless pieces of jewelry hung from its ears and neck. "I'm going to be a gypsy," she said in a mock mysterious voice. "What about you?"

"What a_bout_ me?"

"Halloween. Are you doing anything? I'm going to _Rocky Horror _with a couple of friends. Wanna tag along, or do you have plans?"

"Oh." Justin shook his head. "I'm going home."

Harper frowned for just a moment before realization struck. "Oh, Justin!" she exclaimed. "I forgot what next weekend was. I'm so sorry."

Smiling, Justin said, "It's alright. I'd rather celebrate her birthday, personally. I know she would too. But Mom and Dad insist." He trailed off, thinking of Alex's sarcastic commentary every time they watched the video of a two-year-old Alex being potty-trained in front of the TV, or a seven-year-old Alex cheating at checkers, or a nine-year-old Alex looked proud and defiant while a wailing Justin wiped whipped cream out of his eyes (this one she was quite proud of).

Glancing at Harper, Justin's smile faded. She was in the videos too, dressed in loud polka dots and big bows and looking absolutely petrified of the camera. But just as with his parents, she had no idea that the loud-mouthed, knobby-kneed star of the tapes was far from gone. It was an awful thought, knowing that Harper was oblivious. Every so often there would be a crazy moment in which he felt the words on the back of his tongue: _There's something you need to know about Alex_. But every time, he remembered his promise.

_If you don't want me to die, then you'll keep your damn mouth shut_. That was what Alex had said to him that November day three years ago, when Max had finally come clean, and she remained firm in her convictions.

Justin had always had a knack for becoming lost in his thoughts. Thusly, he was caught entirely off guard when Harper put down the phone, looked up at him with very serious eyes, and said, "Will you take me to Hartford with you?"

* * *

_**A/N**: Yes, there will be Jarper. I ship it. _


	7. Harper

_**A/N**__: Ah, sorry about the long wait! I sort of fell out of the fandom a little. I'm so glad to get back on track with this story - that's mainly attributed to the amazing third season. The episodes "Third Wheel" and "Alex's Logo" have proved that Wizards is no ordinary Disney show. It is truly amazing and has inspired me._

_On a more related note, this chapter does not fit in the timeline. I felt that there was a lot to be covered in the past that I had left out, so I'm doing a few chapters (not all in a row) showing some flashbacks. I was originally going to put all of these in a separate companion story, but I decided to just work them into this one. Some moments will include the hospital scenes (which were requested awhile ago), Justin finding out about Alex, some family drama, and some more Harper._

_This chapter covers Harper. It's a little choppy, but I felt that that was what a series of flashbacks should be like: representing human thought._

* * *

"Students and teachers. Please pause what you're doing right now for a brief moment of silence. Today is a very sad day. I am devastated to report to you that a member of our student body passed away last night. Miss Alex Russo, a sophomore here at Tribeca Prep, was killed in an accident at her home. She felt no pain, but the same cannot be said for her family and friends. If you see Justin or Max Russo next week, please give them a smile and some kind words. No one will ever know why this terrible tragedy had to befall us; we can only move forward and remember Alex for the fun, clever young woman she was."

* * *

There were good days and bad days.

A good day was when I left my house early enough to walk past the old Sub Station and buy a glazed donut (your favorite) from a street vendor. A good day was when our old lunch table by the salad bar was available; when Mr. Laritate shared a story about you in art class.

A bad day was when I fell into bed, exhausted, and realized that, in the rushed bustle of everyday life, I had forgotten to remember. I had forgotten to stop and think. It was on these days, most of all, that I curled up under my quilt, reread the old saved text messages on her phone, and cried.

* * *

_I am a miser of my memories of you_

_and I will not spend them._

_

* * *

_

The small back bedroom looked like the office of a detective hard at work. Photos were tacked to the wall in endless rows. Sheets of paper covered the floor, a crunched rug. Three empty mugs, stained with sticky coffee residue, sat in a line on the cluttered desk.

The lights were off, and the room was illuminated by the soft glow of a computer screen. The only sound was the occasional pattering of fingers on the keyboard.

Harper Finkel was half-asleep, her chin drawn down to her chest. The clock on her computer read _11:56_, and she noted that with vague aprehension. _Have to finish this... one more paragraph... _But the words weren't coming to her.

_"So in the end, Mantooth and the whole ordeal weren't worth it. It all seemed horribly unfair at the time, but I suppose it was just another lesson that Alex had to learn. Day by day, with every incident and accident, she was growing into the amazing wizard I was sure she would become_."

There. Perfect. Harper sighed and checked the time again - two minutes to midnight. She clicked "Print" and watched as five pages of small text rolled out of the printer. As the ink dried, she took a purple pen and wrote "Halloween" in big letters at the top.

_12:00._

"Happy birthday, Alex." Harper smiled a little and looked up at the framed picture above her desk. "I miss you so much." Alex, wearing black pajamas and smirking at the camera, stared back. No response.

She had been gone for a year and two months, and already she was only a memory, living behind glass and on inanimate sheets of paper. Harper felt with a flickering passion that it was up to her to preserve the memories. And if it was all a wasted effort, if her best friend somewhere up in Heaven just didn't give a shit...

If it all didn't matter as much as Harper thought it did, at least it gave her a sense of peace in remembering.

She took a sip of coffee and opened a new document. Alex watched her blankly from the wall.

_"It all began with a history test. A history test, and a spell."_

Remembering.

* * *

I dreamed the same thing thirty five nights in a row. I pressed a telephone against my ear, listening for something, anything, a single precious syllable. Thousands of voices crossed paths, looped around each other, circled my ears like bugs. I took apart the phone, laying the pieces out like fragile artifacts. Nothing. I stumbled across my bedroom, the walls spinning around me. The doorknob shocked my skin, and when I threw the door open I faced a brick wall, freshly laid and mortared.

Trying so desperately to get to something. Get to someplace.

Nothing.

_Nothing_.

Then.

A flat line. I woke up crying every time.

* * *

Mr. Laritate dedicated the graduation ceremony that May to you. There was a slideshow, just like at the funeral, beginning with a black-haired baby in diapers and ending with you on the cheer squad, sticking your tongue out at the yearbook photographer. Stevie broke character and held my hand through the whole thing. That was nice of her, but I was okay. I was fine. Even when I saw us, age twelve, in our Harry Potter costumes. Age nine, at someone's roller rink birthday party. Age fourteen, looking like hot messes with pin straight hair and glittery lip gloss and _I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm not going to cry dammit._

At the end of the ceremony, I carried my diploma tight against my chest and scanned the auditorium. I felt sure that _I_ would want to see a ceremony dedicated to my own daughter. But all I saw were the grinning, chattering faces of my classmates' proud parents, and I had never felt more alone.

And it had nothing to do with you.

* * *

_God gave us memories_

_that we might have roses in December._

_

* * *

_

I was ten. It was the middle of July, and even with my lightest sundress and a grape popsicle in my mouth, I felt like I was in the Sahara (I was very proud to know what the Sahara was). A pair of blue rollerblades were strapped to my feet, a hand-me-down from Justin; my feet slid around on the inside.

"I'm bored. Let's go in and watch TV." You wiped your mouth, stained red from the popsicle, and tossed the stick towards the trash can. It missed and landed on the sidewalk.

_Litterbug. _"Your parents told us to stay outside," I said, frowning.

You stood up, unsteady on your skates, and crossed your arms over your tiny chest. "Mom won't notice, she's in Justin's room watching him barf."

"Alex, I don't wanna get sick too." It was no use. You took my hand and yanked me up.

The next afternoon, I sat in the bathroom in my empty apartment, my stuffed pony in one hand and a wet washcloth in the other.

_Dear God, if you're there, please make me amazing like my best friend Alex. Nothing bad ever happens to her. Can you do that God? Can you hear me?_

_

* * *

_

"You know you can't leave, you'll only get in more trouble."

"No. No I won't. I won't get in trouble because it won't be me coming downstairs."

"You know, I can just take a picture with my phone, that would be a lot less risky-"

* * *

On June 17, 2010, I woke up, stuffed my feet into a pair of slippers, and left my bedroom, walking right past the wall of photos.

* * *

_**A/N: **The first quote is from Witter Bynner. The second is from J.M. Barrie._

_The next chapter is back to 2011 - Justin and Harper arrive in Hartford._


	8. Discord

_**A/N**__: A super-long chapter to make up for the past few wimpy ones. This skips back to 2011 - October 28, 2011. _

_

* * *

_

_**Discord**_ |ˈdiskôrd| - _noun, lack of agreement or harmony between things._

_ "Theresa, where's the VCR remote? I could have sworn it was in here..."_

Jerry's voice was muffled from inside the cabinet. The television screen above his head glowed a harsh blue, and Max, reclining in an armchair, stared at it with vague interest. It hurt his eyes.

"Don't ask me, you're the one who-" Theresa's answer was cut off by sudden music. "Ay, where did I put my cell phone?"

It was October twenty-eighth, and an early Alex Remembrance Night was underway, rescheduled to accommodate a delightfully busy Justin. The three Russos had just finished dinner - Alex's favorite four-cheese enchiladas - and the baby videos were now lined up next to the ancient VCR. A few of the labels were visible: "Christmas 1997"; "Virginia Beach 1999"; "Ice Skating".

_I can't wait for the one where you get a nosebleed_.

Shut up.

"Oh, that's wonderful! I can't wait to see her!" Theresa's voice, loud and excited, came from the kitchen. "How's she doing? Is she in- Oh, right, you're driving. Well, we'll see you in forty-five minutes!. Bye, honey."

She appeared in the doorway, grinning. "That was Justin," she said, as though it wasn't obvious. "He said he did well on his test, and has just left the city. We'll hold off on the videos for a little longer, alright?"

Jerry hummed in agreement. Max nodded. Alex grumbled, _Why can't we just get it over with?_

Theresa was not finished; she was biting her lip and smiling in a strange, secretive way. When no one asked she finally said, "And he had some exciting news - Harper's coming with him!"

Jerry was not phased, but Max winced at Alex's reaction.

_Harper! Oh my God, I can't believe I'm about to see Harper! This is so awesome! I have so many things to ask her!_

"Well, I'll pop some cookies in the oven," Theresa said, clapping her hands together. She hurried back into the kitchen, leaving Jerry with his head in a cabinet and Max sulking on the sofa. There was a long, awkward pause before Jerry, his eyes cast down, followed Theresa.

Max grabbed the TV remote and began flipping channels. He paused at an unfamiliar cartoon.

_Max! _Alex was buzzing with excitement. _Can you believe she's actually coming? We're actually going to see her! _There was something off about the sound of her voice, something that was not quite right.

He went down a few more channels. Wheel of Fortune was on.

_Of course we'll _have_ to tell her about me. I mean, she'll be staying with us, she's bound to notice something is up sooner or later. We may as well just go ahead and tell her! Right?_

Max clenched his jaw. Whatever happened to 'they'll kill me if they find out'?

_Oh, you know Harper won't. She'll be totally cool with it, I'm sure. You know how used she's gotten to wizard stuff._

Alex wasn't acting like herself. She didn't _sound_ like herself. She sounded...

_I can't wait to hear how college is going! Do you think she has a boyfriend?_

When Max was five their family had gone to Coney Island for Justin's ninth birthday. Max sat on a bench with his parents and ate pizza while some man drew a caricature of Alex and Justin (Max couldn't sit still long enough to be a part of it). At five, he had not understood the concept, and he laughed at how the artist had drawn his brother's nose so large, and made his sister's teeth stick out like pieces of wood.

Now his mind went back to that picture. It was distorted. Larger than life. Unreal.

Alex was becoming like that.

It was not a sudden change - Max had begun to notice little tics in her behavior. Asking to watch old TV shows. Saying "pants on fire" when Max lied.

"Tell me when they get here," Max called into the kitchen before heading up the stairs.

Alex was stuck.

_I wonder what she looks like? Do you think she's still growing out her hair_?

Max slammed his bedroom door and sank onto his bed. Would you shut up? I can't think.

_Maybe she's gotten taller. What if she's taller than me now?_

That wouldn't be too hard, you're six feet in the ground.

_What if she's_-

"Shut up." Max groaned, rolling over onto his stomach. "Just _shut up_. Do you even hear yourself?"

Alex was silent for a moment. Then, _What do you mean_?

Rubbing his eyes, Max sighed. You're just being really, _really_ annoying. Would you stop talking about Harper? It's driving me nuts.

_It's been, like, three years since I last saw her. This is a kind of big thing._

Yeah, well keep it to yourself.

_In case you've forgotten, I _can't_. We share a head, numbskull._

Well maybe this just isn't going to work out, then.

_Are you saying you'd rather me be dead? Is that it?_

You _are_ dead!

_I am _not_! I'm talking to you, aren't I? I'm not dead!_

Max sat up and reached for his iPod. He stuffed the buds in his ears and turned up Breaking Benjamin as loud as it would go. If Alex wouldn't shut up, he would just drown her out. But over the guitars and lyrics, he could still hear her wailing.

_I am not dead! Are you even listening to me?_

It was after eight o' clock when he was disturbed by a hand on his shoulder. He was relieved to find out that Alex had shut up at some point during his sleep.

"Max?"

He paused his iPod. It was Theresa.

"Your brother just got here. Do you want to go talk to him? Are you too tired?" Theresa had a smudge of flour across one cheek; she sounded exhausted.

Max yawned and ruffled his hair. "I'm fine." He could hear voices coming from downstairs.

Theresa paused in Max's room for a moment, as though she was expecting something to happen. When Max just laid there staring at the ceiling, she sighed and left.

Promise me one thing. Max stood up slowly and stretched his arms over his head. He could hear Harper's voice now, soft and familiar.

_Anything. Just let me see Harper_!

Let me do the talking. Please don't take over in front of everybody. Can you promise me that?

_Sure, sure. Let's go now._

Her hurried, ditzy tone was all Max needed to know that this was a bad idea. He cut the lights off behind him and began the slow descent to the living room, taking extra care with each step to make sure he stayed in control. Alex was prattling on and on in the back of his mind, like elevator music that only he could hear. He felt vaguely crazy.

"I think it's cute. It has charm." Harper's voice came crystal clear from the kitchen.

Max could hear the smile in Justin's voice. "Yeah, wait till you see the golf wallpaper in the bathroom."

Three more steps. Max clenched the railing, his knuckles turning white. Remember your promise.

_Yeah, yeah, of course_.

He reached the doorway of the kitchen, and there was Harper, standing behind the counter with a glass of milk in her hand.

Beside her was Justin. They stood with their shoulders touching, their faces only inches apart as they laughed together.

_Oh my God, what are they doing together? Make them stop, Max_.

Max forced a smile and walked into the kitchen. Harper looked up, and a smile spread across her face.

"Hey Max, how are you doing?" She was hardly recognizable, with dark hair and a hooded sweatshirt that Max recognized as belonging to his brother. A pair of large, hot pink hoop earrings were the only connection Max could see to her younger self.

He shrugged. "Alright. It's good to see you." Alex's yelling was growing louder, and he fought the urge to scream.

Justin raised one eyebrow. "Hey, buddy," he said. "You feeling alright?" Max caught his meaning. As soon as Harper turned to take a cookie from the tray, Max mouthed, _She's yelling_.

"Hey, Harper." Justin put his hand on the girl's shoulder. "Want to go put your things up in my room? It's the first door on the left." Harper looked taken aback until she saw the pleading in hie eyes. She nodded quickly.

"Yeah, I'll do that."

Before she even left the counter, Alex let out a deafening yell in Max's head.

_They're sharing a fucking room?_

White hot pain flashed across his eyes, and Max felt himself crumple to the floor.

* * *

"Why didn't you tell me that Max was sick?"

Justin rubbed his temple. "He's not sick, he's-"

"Bipolar disorder is a medical condition." Harper stuck her pointer finger in the air. Her brow was crumpled in frustration and concern. They were all crowded around Max's bunk bed, where the boy had yet to wake up.

"I guess I was just..." Justin trailed off, but Harper finished the thought.

"You wanted to pretend that everything was alright, didn't you?" She smiled a little, but there was a deep sadness behind her eyes. "I wish I'd known what you guys were going through. I feel so bad for him." She motioned to Max.

_You have no idea_, Justin wanted to say, but Alex's face in his mind stopped him.

"Are you sure you don't want to sleep in your own room? The top bunk is pretty small, and-"

"No, take my room." Justin smiled. "I'll be fine, I can fit in here." Besides, he knew Alex would go crazy sharing a room with Harper. She had already done enough damage for one day. He absently ran a hand through his brother's hair.

Harper looked down at Max. "When did this all start?" she asked in a small voice. Gently, she reached for Justin's hand.

Justin couldn't meet her eyes. Images flashed through his head, snippets of sound and voices. He wanted so badly to tell her, to help her understand that the world wasn't all cruel. Instead, he just looked down at their hands and said, "Three years, exactly."

It had been three years, three long years. Alex had caused all sorts of trouble, but until now she had never physically harmed Max. Justin could not bear to think what was in store for them in years to come.

_If there are any more years_.

Harper leaned towards him from her spot on the mattress. She smelled like flowers and, more faintly, cigarettes. Her dark eyes locked onto his.

"Justin," she whispered, "there's something you aren't telling me." One cold earring brushed his cheek.

He opened his mouth, and found that his voice had left him. His face flushed and he managed to choke out two words.

"Nothing important."

* * *

_**A/N: The next chapter is a memory chapter again, Justin post-death. There will be another one about Alex pre-death in a few chapters. **_


	9. Justin

_**A/N:** I apologize for the wait - this chapter took forever to write, and I'm still not entirely satisfied with the ending. I knew I had to write these scenes, but I was so anxious to get back to present day that I'm afraid I rushed them a little. _

_Also, I'm dumb. I looked at a calendar to figure out the 2008 dates, but instead of moving them three days up I only moved them one. October 30, 2008 was a Thursday, and I mistakenly made October 30, 2011 a Friday. It's actually a Sunday. So now Harper and Justin arrive in Hartford on Friday, October 28th. Alex Remembrance Day is being celebrated early so that Justin can attend with his busy school schedule. I've gone back and fixed this in Chapter Eight, but a lot of you already read it before the edit. I also went back and put the Harper chapter in first person like this one is. _

* * *

_**October 30, 2008**_

I was at Zeke's house when Dad called to tell me about you. We had a tarp set up on the terrace and paper masks over our faces so we wouldn't breathe in the spray paint. You would have laughed at us, I know.

Mrs. Beekerman was a tiny woman with bright red hair, mom jeans, and a brown Thanksgiving sweater. She led me through the kitchen; it smelled like bread and apples. I will never forget that. When she handed me the cordless phone I could already hear the commotion on the other end.

"Dad? ... _Dad?" _He didn't seem to hear me-

"Justin! When will you learn to keep your phone on? I've called your cell phone ten times!" In the background I could hear Mom, muffled and indistinct. There was another sound too. Crying? Something didn't feel right.

"I'm sorry," I started to say, but Dad didn't hear me; he was talking to someone else.

_"Get your coat and get your butt downstairs. Crying isn't going to help anything_."

"Dad?" I repeated. My heart was pounding in my throat so hard that I thought I might be sick.

_"Theresa, you go with them. I'll take Max_."

_What's wrong?_ I felt like screaming. Finally there was the static noise of breath as Dad spoke into the phone again.

"Justin," he said slowly, "you need to come to the Downtown Hospital as fast as you can get there. There was an accident at home and, um, your sister... isn't breathing. We need you to be here right now."

The room seemed to shatter and fall away. My heart wasn't beating. All I could hear was white noise and my dad's voice like pounding rain: _Your sister isn't breathing. Your sister isn't breathing_. Ideas shot through my mind.

_Food allergy. _

_Hit by a taxi._

_Murder. _

A sharp, painful chill went up my spine.

_Suicide_.

I shook my head, desperate to drive out that last thought. Somehow, through the traffic in my mind, I heard Zeke's voice.

"Hey man, is something wrong?"

The urgency of the situation hit me like a train. I threw the phone onto the counter, muttered something indistinct, and ran for the stairs without grabbing my rain jacket. That last thought had stuck, and all I could think of was your desperate anger that morning. Warning signs. Had there been any warning signs? Oh God, all I could see was your face, stained with makeup, scowling.

The last time I'd see it.

But I didn't know that then.

* * *

You were dead long before I got there. I could have walked slower, or even taken the subway. Either way I would have stumbled into the same nightmarish picture - our little brother crouched alone in the corner of the waiting room, sobbing. He had his face buried in his knees, and his hands clutching at his head like it was on fire. Part of me didn't want to come anywhere near him; part of me was saying, _This isn't Max, this is some other kid. _

"Hey." I took the seat next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. His whole body tensed up, and he peered at me with swollen eyes. Dark, almost unrecognizable. I shuddered.

"Do you know where Mom and Dad are?" I asked him slowly. "I need to talk to them."

Max shook his head. He pressed his eyes closed as another chain of sobs wracked his body.

Even _you_ would have been freaked out. The kid looked completely mental. As much as I wanted to stay with him, my thoughts were on getting to you and our parents. I was desperate to know what had happened. It had been thirty minutes since I found out you were dead, and I still didn't know how. That uncertainty created more and more horrible scenarios, each one more awful than before. I pictured you drowned in the bathtub; sitting on the floor with blood running down your arms; hanging like a tragic pinata-

"_Mom!" _The door to the waiting room opened, and the word was out of my mouth before I got a good look at her. _How's Alex_? I wanted to ask, but it dried up in my throat when I saw her face. She was an absolute wreck. Her hair was loose and limp, her mascara smudged into what looked like black bruises. She saw me, and let out a loud, strangled noise. As I went to put my arms around her, she muttered some words in Spanish. I felt her small hands clutch the back of my shirt. Then, muffled,

"She's gone."

* * *

I don't know why Harper had to come to the hospital. There was nothing to see, and we were a perfectly fine mess without her. But when I called to break the news, she was adamant. I could hear the tears in her voice, sense a breakdown coming on, but still she said, in a quiet, determined voice, "I'm coming down there."

Would you have wanted her there, given the choice? Would you have wanted to subject her to the dim white walls, the stoney-faced doctors, and the constant crying? Because if I were the one dead, I sure as hell wouldn't want Zeke to be there listening to everyone pass around words like "cerebral contusion". That's what you died of, by the way. Harper almost passed out when she heard, and as soon as someone got her some apple juice she ran to the restroom and threw it back up.

But if Zeke had died... I briefly pictured the tiny Mrs. Beekerman, widowed for six years, sitting alone in this horrible place.

I'd been to the hospital plenty of times. Too many, in fact. I stepped on a nail when I was six. Dad broke his ankle the next year and the whole family went along. Then there was the time I got the bad stomach virus, the time Harper split her head open in the kitchen, the time you broke your arm, the time you broke _Max's_ arm... Had the hospital been smaller the ER personnel might have known us by name.

But this time was different. This time we weren't going home with crutches or a cast or a bottle of pain pills. This time we were going home empty-handed.

We came in one piece, and we were going home broken.

* * *

Two weeks after the accident.

I would be lying to say things were back to normal. Nothing could be normal again; the world had ended. It was simple as that. But after awhile, life began to happen again. Mom started cooking again. I took Max to the movies. Dad fixed the wobbly barstool. It was your average picture of a grieving family - your room had been figuratively taped off, and your freshman yearbook picture was hanging in the foyer.

At school all the teachers insisted on mentioning your name at least twice per class. Mr. Laritate was a different person; you'll never know how attached he was to you. He was so sure you would do great things one day, and he couldn't wait to see it. I know how he feels.

Exactly fifteen days after your death, I woke up a quarter past three in the morning and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. When I rounded the corner, I saw that the refrigerator door was hanging wide open, and in its dim light our little brother was sitting on the floor. He had a hat pulled over his ears, and he held a two liter bottle of orange soda up his mouth. His eyes looked deep black. Way too serious for a thirteen-year-old boy. I felt a deep apprehension creep into my mind. Something was not right.

And just like that, Max changed.

* * *

He wasn't eating. We all noticed that, but no one had the nerve to say anything until he went an entire day on a bowl of cereal. Mom brought a sliced apple to me and said, "Would you try and get him to eat this? He likes apples." She didn't sound confident at all in this fact, but I took the plate from her and knocked on Max's door. Complete silence. I knocked again.

"Buddy? You need to eat something, you're gonna pass out."

The door opened just an inch, and I saw a slice of his face, dark and expressionless. "Not hungry."

"C'mon," I said, trying to sound lighthearted. "You need to-"

"I said I'm not hungry. Now fuck off."

I was too stunned to hear the door slam.

* * *

One day in late November, Max tried to throw himself in front of a taxi. He was tagging along with Zeke and I to the arcade, by orders of Mom, when suddenly a woman screamed and a tire squealed and Max wasn't behind us anymore. A tall boy with dreadlocks stood gripping Max's arm, a look of shock on his face. Max didn't fight. He just sank down onto the sidewalk and put his head between his legs.

I was speechless; stupefied. I could hear the honking of car horns, the clamor of people - lucky people - passing by. I vaguely registered Zeke's voice as he thanked the stranger. But all I could see was you, makeup-stained, yelling, crying. _The last time I'd see you_.

Alex, our little brother tried to kill himself. He's only thirteen. Mind telling me how things ended up like this?

Fighting back tears, I sat down on the sidewalk beside him. He was shaking with sobs.

"C'mon," I said as gently as possible. "Let's get you home."

I said goodbye to a confused, reluctant Zeke, then took our brother's hand and headed home. Neither of us spoke.

That night I went into your room for the first time. Nothing had been touched. Your green Converses were still on the floor by your bed, where you'd kicked them off that day. I sat down in your desk chair and tried to pretend I could still smell coffee and candle smoke.

* * *

When the time came, I think we were all ready to leave New York City. We were exhausted. There was nothing left for us there. And so, oddly relieved, we packed up a rental van and left for Hartford, three hours away and chosen for what was supposed to be a stellar school system. I think that was the last thing on our minds, but I guess focusing on it made Mom ad Dad feel like productive parents for the first time in over a month (had you really been gone that long?).

The new house was two stories, brick, with outdated decor and a building attached that had actually been a stationary shop run out of the home. The floors upstairs squeaked, and we had to put a lot of our things up in the attic. The weather was awful, and branches slapped the house during the night.

But it didn't remind us of anything. It allowed us to go about our lives without having to close our eyes as we passed your room. All of your things were up in the attic, where you could be kept close yet not forgotten.

Our second Saturday in Hartford, I found out just how true that statement was.

* * *

Max was getting worse, and we were all scared. He was still not eating anything. He refused to get out of bed in the morning, kicking and yelling when we tried to force him. No one had had a normal conversation with him in weeks.

It had just started to snow for the winter, and the four of us were working on converting the stationary shop. A week into the job we had all of the shelves out, and the striped yellow wallpaper was in trash bags by the dumpster.

"It's getting easier to believe this will be the Sub Station," Mom kept saying to keep spirits up. She and Dad were singing along with a classic rock station while Max and I painted lazy red strokes on the wall. The heating was not working in the shop, and we both wearing old sweatshirts of Dad's. Not a word had been said between us, so when he opened his mouth after a goof half hour of silence, I thought I might have imagined it.

"I need to talk to you," Max said. Our parents had just gone in the back room to clean off their paintbrushes; I could hear Mom singing along with "Let It Be" on the radio.

Still in shock, I put down my paintbrush and looked at Max. He was staring at the wall. "What's up?"

"Justin..." He took a deep breath, pinching his eyes shut. "Something happened back on, uh, that day. Something I haven't told anyone about. Swear you won't tell Mom and Dad?"

I was more than confused; I was dumbstruck. What on earth was he talking about? Then, an awful idea crept into my head - what if your death had been Max's fault? I felt a pain, deep and unexplainable, in my gut.

His next words, perhaps the most important thing anyone has ever told me, were these:

"Alex isn't dead, Justin. She's in my head."

* * *

_**A/N**: Second out of three memory chapters. In a few chapters I'll do Alex, and that will be all of the stuff that I wanted to add. Now, back to October 28, 2011. _


	10. Outburst

_**A/N**: I tried to pack a lot into this chapter, so I'm sorry if the pacing feels a little off. _

_**

* * *

**_

_**Outburst - **_|outˌbərst| - noun, a sudden outbreak of strong emotion

_**October 28, 2011**_

Justin didn't know how long he sat in Max's room, listening to his brother's deep breathing and the sound of the shower through the wall. Max looked more peaceful than he had in months, maybe even years, and Justin was careful not to cause any disturbance.

He had tried so many times in the past few weeks to tell Harper the truth, but the words always shriveled up in his throat. She had the right to know, especially now that she was here. She had _seen_ Max. She had seen him, and had no idea that Alex was behind those dark, troubled eyes. It was time to end this.

Max stirred, opening his eyes just a bit. _"Why the long face? Oh, wait - that's natural_." Alex laughed at her own insult. She looked up through Max's eyes and sneered at her older brother.

Justin groaned. "Very mature, Alex." _Where's Max when I need him_?

_"Listen up numbskull_," Alex went on. "_I don't want you hanging out with Harper anymore. Understand?_"

"Nothing you can do about it." He looked down at his feet, mustering up courage for what he was going to say next.

"_Oh yeah? I'll can bust your head open so hard your-"_

"I'm telling Harper about you." Justin pinched his eyes closed. In the silence that followed, he heard the shower shut off. Max/Alex grinned.

_"Finally!"_

_

* * *

_

Harper was combing her hair when Justin knocked. She had on a Little Mermaid on Broadway T-shirt and plaid pajama pants, and her wet hair was tangled.

"Hey, Justin." Her face brightened as she caught sight of him behind her in the mirror.

Justin smiled absently. "Harper," he said, sitting down on the bed, "there's something I need to tell you."

"Alright." She watched his reflection.

"It's about Alex."

The comb paused, then lowered to the dresser-top. "I'm listening."

Justin took in a deep breath "Okay, I know it sounds crazy beyond crazy, even for someone who's known about wizards for as long as you have, and I don't blame you if you don't believe me-" Harper had turned around, her eyes glued to his "- but the truth is, Alex isn't really dead."

There was a long silence. Harper clenched her teeth. "_What?_"

"She didn't trip on the stairs," Justin went on, his voice shaking. "She was attempting a body-switching spell and it backfired. She, uh, wound up in Max's head. That's how she fell. But her mind wasn't in her body when it was killed... Does any of this make sense to you, Harper?"

Harper's face was blank. She stared dumbly at Justin. "She's alive?"

"In a matter of speaking... yes." Justin watched as Harper staggered over to the bed and sank down beside him. The comb dropped to the floor. "Um, do you remember the time that you guys switched brains and it got messed up?"

"Family game night," Harper breathed.

"Yeah. See, that's how it's been for Max the past three years. Mom and Dad think he has a mental condition, which is what we've been telling the teachers."

Harper's eyes narrowed, the first sign of an emotional response. "Your parents don't even know?"

Justin's breath hitched. _Crap_. "Alex won't let Max say anything about it. See, she thinks that if they find out they'll try and reverse it, which would-"

"Why did you wait so long to tell me?" Harper's voice rose considerably. She was trying very hard not to yell.

"This is a really big thing, Harper. It's kind of hard to-"

"You _think_? I've spent the last three years thinking my best friend had been _killed_, and it turns out she's just hanging out in your brother's head." Her voice faltered. Though Justin could not see her face, he thought he heard her choke.

"Harper," he said, softer, "I didn't know until after we moved. She thought that if anyone besides Max knew, they would reverse the spell and she would be dead for good." A tear dripped from Harper's chin. "I wish we could have told you, but we were hours away when I found out."

Harper was silent for a long time. Every now and then her chest rattled with a sob. After what seemed like an eternity, she leaned over and put her head against Justin's shoulder. She smelled like his soap.

"You don't know how alone I felt," she whispered. She was crying in earnest now, her face screwed up in anguish. "I had lost _every_thing. My life ended when you guys left. Even if I could be with Alex, I wanted to be with _you_."

Justin was speechless. This girl, this beautiful, wonderful girl; he had forgotten she had ever... He wrapped one arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer, a deep, desperate affection filling his chest. He couldn't fathom how she must have felt.

"It's alright," he whispered. "It's alright."

* * *

There was a devilish smile on Max's face as he stuck his hand eagerly into the popcorn bucket. Justin frowned; Alex was obviously still in charge. Was Max even conscious, he wondered? A shudder went down Justin's back as he took his seat on the sofa.

"What's first - 'Christmas 1998 or... Jerry, what does this one say?" Theresa held up the videotape to her husband.

"_Put in the one with the roller-skates_." Alex spoke up, but Max quickly regained control. "I mean, the sledding one. From Granna and Grandad's house." Alex was perhaps the only person who wished to relive seven-year-old Max's broken nose in Central Park, because Theresa delved back into the cardboard box and pulled out a tape marked "Christmas New Jersey 1999".

It started out with a solid white image - snow covering a vast, sloped backyard. Then Theresa's voice came from off camera: "_No, Justin, you have to sit up like - nothing's going to hit you in the head, we're in a suburban backyard. There aren't even any trees_."

"_Can I at least have a bike helmet_?" eight-year-old Justin called from the top of the hill. He was crouched down in a small blue sled. His sister stood behind him, her arms crossed over her chest.

"_Mom_," Alex called, "_can I please just push him_?"

"_No, hon- Max, don't eat that, it's not clean. Jerry, why did you have to use that ice cream analogy_?"

Jerry's voice also came from offscreen. "_Do you think Justin would have gotten out in seven inches of snow- No, Max, we don't eat dirt_."

At the top of the hill, Justin and Alex were still bickering. Alex reached out with one tiny hand, and Justin let out a girlish shriek as the sled lurched forward.

"_She pushed me! She pu- I'm gonna die! I'm gonna die! Help me_!"

The sled crashed into a lawn chair, and Justin was catapulted into the snow. The camera, still on, was lowered to the floor of the covered patio as Theresa rushed to Justin's side. Alex's laughs could be heard from the top of the hill. Jerry was saying, "_Walk it off, son; walk it off_." Justin was wailing; Theresa was saying something in Spanish; and a baby-faced, curly-haired Max sat down in front of the camera, leaned down towards the lens, and started making funny faces.

That was how it was supposed to be. Those people on screen, _they_ were the Russos. Crazy, energetic, dysfunctional but still together.

They didn't exist anymore.

The rest of the videos followed a sort of pattern similar to the first. Family makes fun of each other, parents get distracted, kid gets hurt. They watched as Alex hit Justin in the head with an veritable arsenal of toys and household objects. As Max got a sugar rush from birthday cake and ran smack into the wall. As Alex pushed Harper into an oncoming wave and shouted, "_A mermaid did it!_" After an hour or so, Theresa yawned and turned on the table lamp.

"It's the old people's bedtime," she said as she stretched her arms over her head. "I think your father's already asleep."

Jerry let out a soft snore.

When they had tidied up the living room and said their good-nights, Justin caught Max by the shoulder.

"We need to talk about earlier."

Max looked up, agreement in his eyes. He was himself, finally. "My room?" Justin nodded, and his little brother took off up the stairs.

Harper gave Justin a quizzical look. "Earlier? You mean..."

"I know this is all confusing to you," Justin said apologetically. "But yeah, she made that happen."

The room was silent for a long time. Then, Harper took Justin's hand and gave it a squeeze. Her eyes were rimmed with red, and he could tell she was on the verge of tears again.

"Can I talk to her in the morning?"

"Yeah. Yeah, first thing."

Harper wrapped her arms around his chest, pulling him into a tight hug. "I'm trying my best to understand," she said. "I'm not mad at you."

Justin could only nod.

* * *

"She's being quiet right now. What did you want to say?" Max was sitting cross-legged on his bed. Justin sighed and sank into the desk chair.

"I need to talk to Alex," he said. Max looked disappointed.

"She's been controlling me all day." He rubbed the back of his head. "I just want to go to sleep."

Justin felt his heart break a little at the look on Max's face; exhausted, exasperated. But this had to happen. Max must have understood, because his lowered his shoulders and took in a deep breath.

"Go ahead." There was a transition in his face after a few seconds, almost unnoticeable. Then, "_Shoot._"

"Alex," Justin started, unable to meet those dark eyes, "I don't really know how to say this. You've... changed."

_"What do you mean? I've been stuck in here for three years. Nothing's changed at all." _She frowned. Or rather, made Max frown.

"Yes it has," he groaned. "You may not have noticed, but you're getting restless." He couldn't think of a better word for it. Unhappy? Annoying?

_"You would too. It's not exactly pleasant in here." _

"That's exactly my point. I think you've been in there too long. Watching life... it's starting to affect you. And Max..." Justin met her eyes. "You're destroying him."

"_Am not! He's fine." _Alex narrowed her eyes.

"No he isn't," Justin answered, "and neither are you. Alex, you never used to cry. Max says you cry every night now. And you got so mad at me for talking to Harper-"

"_Because you weren't just talking," _she lashed out. "_You were holding her hand! How would you feel if I was fooling around with Zeke?"_

"We aren't fooling around," Justin said, a little too quickly. "You've been dead for three years, Alex. Zeke lives in Pittsburgh. We haven't spoken in months."

"_Oh, boo hoo._" She mimed wiping a tear from her eye. "_But you know what I mean. I don't want you-" _

"You just proved my point." Justin clenched his teeth, choosing his words carefully. "You're stuck, Alex. You think you're alive, using Max's body as much as you want. But you're _not_."

"_Am too-"_

"And do you ever stop and think how this is affecting Max? Mom and Dad have had to tell his teachers that he has a mental problem." Justin felt white hot anger rising up in his chest. "And how about our parents? They've already lost one child, and a few weeks ago Mom told me that she feels like she's losing Max too. He may act like everything's fine, but-"

Alex nodded sharply and held up one hand. "_I know, I know. I can hear his thoughts. But it's not like he would be happier if I was gone." _

Justin pursed his lips. "Yes, Alex. I think he would."

That was the wrong thing to say, he could tell as soon as it left his lips. Alex gripped the sheets until her knuckles went white. "_What the _hell_? You're my big brother, you're supposed to be happy that I'm alive!"_

"Alex, you're not alive. You died three years ago. You fell down a staircase and hit your head. Why can't you-"

_"You want me dead! I can't believe this, my own brother wants me dead! You're not the Justin I know, he would be happy I was here. He wouldn't be-" _

"I don't want you dead," he said, exasperated. "I want you _happy_. And you can't be happy here, sharing Max's head. You're making him miserable, and you aren't much better off." He leaned back in the chair and rubbed his eyes.

Alex's voice wavered for the first time. "_You think... How in the world could I be happier? How can I rest if I'm dead?" _

"Look, I'm not sure what happens in the afterlife, but it's got to be better than this, right?" Justin spoke as gently as possible. "Wouldn't you rather take a risk and find out, than stay in Max's head, making his life miserable, until he dies and takes you with him? At this rate, that's not going to be too long."

She was silent for several long moments. Justin could see the uncertainty in her eyes; Alex had given up the fight for the moment. Her control was waning.

_"Do you really think I would be better off dead?" _There was no hostility in her voice, only sadness.

"You're already dead, Alex." Justin looked away, trying to ignore the tears, Alex's tears, in his brother's dark eyes.

"_Max is right," _she said after a moment. "_I do cry. I'm jealous. It hurt so much to see Harper today." _Her voice was distant, as though she was in a trance. "_I wanted so badly to talk to her, but I can tell that she's changed. She's not the same girl I knew three years ago. My Harper is gone. My world is gone." _

Justin tried to think of something to say, something comforting, but suddenly those dark eyes went out of focus, and Alex disappeared. Max looked back at him, speechless.

* * *

_**A/N:** That conversation between Alex and Justin was the very first thing I wrote for this story, back when I first got the idea. Just a little fun fact. I'm very attached to this chapter. _


	11. Reunion

**_A/N: _**_Another long chapter. I wrote it (and the first half of the next one) on a long car ride. It feels a little repetitive and plotless, it's because I was sitting here working on it for five straight hours, and didn't have much to do but add more words.

* * *

_

**_Reunion |_**rēˈyoōnyən| - noun, an instance of two or more people coming together after a period of separation.

Max was still in charge at breakfast the next morning. Justin watched him spread liberal amounts of butter on his pancakes; his eyes were perfectly calm.

"We're going to buy Halloween candy this afternoon," Theresa said from the sink, where she was washing dishes. "Who wants to come with?"

Justin was silent. Harper, who had just trudged downstairs, gave an apologetic look. Max, on the other hand, was quick to say, "I'll go."

Theresa's eyes widened in sarcastic disbelief. "Really? Well, I guess it'll be good to get you out of the house." She wrung out the dishcloth and left the kitchen.

"What's up?" Justin eyed his brother.

Max shrugged. "I just want to get some fresh air."

Harper cast her eyes down. "It's because of me, right? I'm sorry I came here, it's just stirred Alex up-"

"No, no," Max protested, "she'd be like this anyway. Really, it's not your fault." He looked over at her and forced a smile.

The three were silent for a long time after that. There was only the sound of forks on ceramic and the humming of the dishwasher.

"Do you need any help in the Sub Station?" Harper broke the silence. She set her fork down on her empty plate.

Justin shook his head. "We always close it on this weekend. Just one of Mom's crazy 'remembrance' things."

"Yeah," Max agreed, "Alex always complains what a stupid idea it is. She _hates_ this time of year."

"It must be hard on her," Harper said.

"More like annoying. Imagine a whole day where all anyone says is, 'She would have laughed at that' or 'She would have loved this dessert.' And all the while you're yelling, 'I don't want enchiladas! I want biscuits and loose corn!"

"Loose corn!" Justin and Harper both said though their laughter. They cut off and looked at each other, red-cheeked. Max caught this and smiled.

Justin stood up and began to stack their plates. "Max, I told Harper I'd let her talk to Alex today." Harper blushed even harder.

"Alright," Max said, obvious dejection in his voice. He finished his orange juice and stood up. "I haven't heard a word out of her since last night, though. It probably won't work."

"We can still try. Go on, Harper."

Frowning, Max hoisted himself onto the kitchen counter. "Alright," he groaned, closing his eyes. After at least a minute, his face changed and he said, in a softer voice, _"You guys just gonna attack me again?" _

Harper froze, her eyes glued to the floor. "Alex?" she breathed without looking up. Her fists tightened around the ends of her sweater sleeves.

"_Harper." _Slowly, as if through great effort, Alex slid off the counter. She stood in front of Harper for several long moments, just staring down at the dark hair, the freckled cheeks. Neither of them spoke.

Justin's fingers brushed Harper's back at he slid quietly out of the room. Harper shot him a brief panicked glance, but he was gone before she could open her mouth.

"_Harper," _Alex said again. _"Wow, it's been a long time_."

Harper still could not meet Alex's eyes. This was too strange, she thought. How could she be sure that wasn't Max looking back at her? But there was something in that voice, a familiar tone that was impossible to describe...

"Three years in a couple of days," Harper answered briskly.

"_Yeah. Look, I'm really sorry I didn't listen to you." _

That was the last thing Harper had expected to hear. "What?"

"_I shouldn't have gone downstairs, I should have just done what I was supposed to. Then none of this would have happened." _Max's face drooped into a frown, and Harper felt her heart swell with sudden sympathy.

"Don't say that!" Without thinking, Harper reached out and grabbed Max's hand. It felt frail and unfamiliar.

"_But it's true. I'd still be alive, and everything would be fine."_

"Alex..." Harper closed her eyes and tried to picture her friend's face. Maybe that would make this easier. "Things wouldn't be like you're imagining. I think, with everything that's happened, we'd forgotten how it really started. You were pregnant."

Alex paused, then dropped into the seat beside Harper. _"Oh. Right."_

Harper mentally kicked herself - that was probably a sensitive topic. But before she could apologize Alex's mouth curled into the smallest of smiles.

"_I wanted to name her Clara. I've always thought that was the most beautiful name ever."_

"Like in _The Nutcracker_?" Harper asked. She heard the slightest shimmer of happiness in Alex's words.

_"Yeah. And her middle name would have been Margaret, like mine, only American."_

"Clara Margaret Russo," Harper said. "It's beautiful. But how did you know it would be a girl?"

Alex shrugged. "_I don't know, I just had a feeling. Or maybe it was wishful thinking. I didn't want a boy, they pee in your face." _Harper had to laugh at this.

There was a surreal haze about the whole conversation. Harper felt at times as though she was dreaming it. They discussed their old school, their old friends, things they used to do together. Harper told Alex all about graduation, and Alex pretended to gag at the idea of a slideshow dedicated to her.

_"Just what they all needed, huh? My face up there to remind them what happened." _

Harper shook her head. "That's not how it is, Alex. They _like_ remembering you. There was a memorial in the gym - I guess you were there, then, with Max - and everyone, even people like Gigi, were holding hands, crying, smiling. They all cared about you very much."

"_Which explains that whole tea party thing with Gigi. And the time she-"_

"Alex, that was five years ago," Harper cut in. "She was our senior class president, and at graduation she talked about how fun and smart you-"

"_Me? Smart?" _Alex threw her head back and laughed. "_What is she smoking, and can she loan me some? I'm making like a 50-something in math." _But as Alex continued to laugh and tease Gigi, Harper felt something in her heart break. Alex had spoken in present tense. She had spoken as though she was alive, three years ago, still a high school student. As though she had forgotten she was dead.

At that thought, hot tears welled up behind Harper's eyes. She had almost forgotten that Alex was...

"Could you excuse me?" Harper said quickly. "I have to go to the bathroom."

And without any room for debate, she stormed out of the room and up the stairs.

* * *

Justin smelled the smoke first. It caught his attention as he stepped out the back door, a full trash bag in tow, and he followed it around the back of the building to the nook where a doghouse had once been. Cigarettes, and something flowery.

Harper.

She was wearing pajama pants and a red sweater, and one hand was cupped around her mouth. When she saw Justin, she quickly lowered it to the ground. A red lighter fell out from inside her sleeve.

"Damn," she whispered, fumbling to put out the cigarette.

Justin crouched down beside her. "It's alright. I already knew."

"Really?" Harper looked stunned. In the cold her freckles stood out like stars.

"You always smell sort of like them," Justin answered with a shrug.

Harper smiled a little, and stuck the cigarette back in her mouth while she fiddled with the lighter. "I'm going to try and quit soon," she said, her voice a little muffled. Justin sat down next to her and put one hand on her forearm.

"Why not now?"

She shied away from his glance, fixing her eyes on the hay-colored grass. "I started during the divorce. It was an accident, I never meant... Can we change the subject?"

"Sorry," Justin hastened to say, "I didn't mean to get preachy."

Harper shook her head. "It's alright." There was a pause as she took a drag on the cigarette. "I, um, talked to Alex. But you already knew that," she added sheepishly.

Justin smiled. "How did that go."

"Weird." Harper gave a half-grimace. "She apologized for what happened... _that day_. About how to told her not to go downstairs and everything. Then we talked about the baby."

"The baby..." Justin whistled. "I had almost forgotten. If she hadn't died, I'd be an uncle." He looked over at Harper, hoping to lighten the mood, but her face had fallen blank.

"Clara Margaret..." she said under her breath. Then, she stuck her cigarette back in her mouth and didn't say a word more.

* * *

Alright. You talked to Harper. Can I _please_ have my body back now?

Alex grinned and flexed her arms over her head. Max's arms, Max's head... But that didn't really matter. She leaned back into the couch cushions and turned up the TV volume. _You're such a spoilsport. Can't you let me have a little bit of fun for once? _She flipped channels until she landed on a music video. The television volume was borderline blaring, so Theresa's entrance came completely unannounced.

"Ready to go run errands, sweetheart?"

"_Yeah, Mom_." Alex gave her best suck-up smile and turned off the TV. Max managed to break in just to add: "Let me get my coat."

"Your coat is in he-"

"I want the blue one. It's in my closet."

Instead of going up the stairs, Max slipped around the corner and opened the back door. Alex pushed her way back in. _"What's going on?" _

I just want to talk to Justin.

_But he's up in-_

I saw him go out here earlier while you were sulking.

_Why does it smell like-_

Shut up and let me talk this time.

_Not a chance_.

Alex smirked, making the most of her control by leaping down the two brick steps to the backyard. She trooped across the packed dirt, making an effort to scuff up Max's tennis shoes as much as possible.

_No Justin out here. I'm going back._ She turned on one heel, but Max struggled and fought until she had to sit down in the grass.

Would you stop that?

_Why should I let you talk to Justin?. You're just gonna sit around and make plans about how to kill me_. She pouted, self-pity in her voice.

Max was silent for a moment. Then, Didn't you hear anything he said to you yesterday?

Alex scoffed. _Heard it, yes. Agreed with it, not so much. Now let's go, I want some Halloween candy. _

And as she stomped back up the stairs, Max put all the energy he had into stopping her.

This time, all of his energy was not enough. Alex laughed out loud as she swung the door open.

* * *

The room was silent except for the scratching of pen on paper. Justin studied the popcorn patterns on his ceiling and pretended to be thinking deeply. Periodically he looked over at Harper, who was curled up in his desk chair with her legal pad. Writing put her at peace, she had said, and Justin was not about to disturb that pleasant trance she seemed to be in.

"Are you watching me?" Harper smirked.

"No, no," Justin said a bit too quickly. "I was just-"

Harper put down the pencil and pad, and sighed deeply. "I'm not getting anywhere," she said. "I don't know. Something's missing in all of the characters. They all seem too..." She moved her hands around in a gesture that suggested uncertainty "... interchangeable. There's no foundation, just a bunch of actions and words."

Justin raised one eyebrow, impressed. "I'm going to pretend I know what that means."

"They're based on people who don't exist anymore," Harper went on. "They aren't their own." She stood up and stretched her arms across her chest. She had changed into blue jeans, and her auburn hair was pulled into a ponytail. Some of the dark color had begun to wash out, and long orange strands shone through like bits of stray confetti.

She sat down by Justin. "You look worried."

"What are you talking about?" Justin pretended to be taken aback. "I'm fine." He cut Harper off before she could say anything else. "So, what are you writing about right now?"

Harper stuck out her tongue playfully, but didn't argue. "Remember the Smarty Pants?"

Justin chuckled. "How could I forget? Oh God, that was humiliating."

"Well, that's when Natalie finds out that Julia is a wizard. They get into this big fight, and the pants unroll. Julia tells the principal she cheated, and she gets disqualified."

"I bet Natalie's mad about that - wouldn't they lose?"

Harper shrugged. "Yeah, Bryce wins, but Natalie's kind of distracted by the whole 'my-best-friend-has-magical-powers' thing." She rolled her eyes.

Smirking, Justin sat up. "Bryce is my favorite character."

"You're so vain."

"Hey, I'm only joking." He held up his hands in defense. "Besides, he's _nothing_ like me. I don't have glasses, and I don't play Dungeons and Dragons. Anymore," he added when Harper giggled into her hand.

"Well then who _is_ your favorite?"

"Natalie," Justin said matter-of-factly. Harper's face flushed. "I mean, she's smart, talented... Chinese..."

Harper punched him lightly in the arm. "You're just fishing for reasons. Admit it, she's your favorite 'cause she's based on me, right?"

"Oh, right, because you're an obsessive-compulsive ballerina."

They dissolved into laughter, and the conversation ended there. Harper glanced at the window, the smile fading off face.

"How long do you think they'll be gone?"

Justin looked at the clock. It was just past three. "I don't know. Why?" He shifted his eyes back to Harper, who took a deep breath and pulled her feet up Indian-style onto the bed.

"We need to figure out what we're going to do about Alex."

This was not what Justin had been hoping to hear. He rubbed a fist across his eyes and shook his head. "I don't know."

"Justin." Harper leaned forward and looked him straight in the eye. "She's _killing_ him."

Justin backed away. "I _know_. I can't believe I let it get this far, I should have done something a long time ago."

"But you wouldn't have done it."

Justin's breath caught in his throat as he considered her words. Of _course_ he would have done it - he was trying to help Max. But the more he thought about it he realized...

Harper was right.

Justin sighed and rubbed his temple. "So what's the plan?"

"Ex_cuse_ me? I'm not the wizard here, Justin." Harper narrowed her eyes, but her voice was not harsh. She leaned in closer, and Justin felt his heart pounding in his stomach.

"I-I'm sorry," Justin stammered. "I just... I have no idea what to do. I don't want to lose her forever but-"

"It's either her or Max," Harper answered blunty. She scooted closer to Justin, and her voice dropped down to a near whisper. "You wanna know what I think?"

"What?" Justin clenched his teeth, anticipating her answer and trying to ignore that engulfing scent of freesia and smoke.

Harper took his hand in hers. Her bangs brushed his cheek.

"Alex died a long time ago, but Max still has a chance to live. So let him."

Justin looked down at the floor, trying not to meet her eyes, to acknowledge that she would even _consider_ letting Alex go.

But the funny thing was, he had already known.

"You're right." He closed his eyes and laid back on the pillows. "So what should we do?"

There was no answer, only the humming of the air conditioner and the creak of mattress springs. Then, a shimmer of warm air as she whispered in his ear, "Depends on what you're talking about."

* * *

**_A/N_**_: I'm sorry, Justin and Harper have hijacked this story. This is for two reasons: 1) I underestimated how fun their conversations would be to write when I made them secondary characters, and 2) Alex and Max are really complicated to write at this point in the story. There's too much "then she took control, then he took control". That will change soon, and they will get easier to write. _

_Thank you all for the amazing reviews! If I don't respond to a review, it's is an oversight. I try to reply back to everyone, even if it's just "Thank you". But the past few days have been hectic, and I'm afraid I might have left someone out. Your reviews are really helping to drive this thing. When I first started _Psyche_, it was as a "no commitment" thing that I was positive wouldn't get in the way of my main stories. When I saw how many people were enjoying it, that changed my mind. I am so grateful :D_


	12. Spark

_**A/N:**__ I went back and made some edits to Chapter 11 - it just felt flat when I reread it, so I tried to flesh it out a little more. Also, I realized that in an effort to keep the romance subtle, I had made it so subtle that my meaning was entirely lost. I would give a medal to anyone who actually caught the insinuation at the end of the last chapter. So I added another, more obvious line, and I would suggest you reread the end of Chapter 11 before reading this one, in case you didn't pick up on the creaking mattress thing (I know I wouldn't have had I not been the one who wrote it).

* * *

_

**_Spark |spärk| - verb, ignite, provide the stimulus for_**

"Alright, we have Coke, orange soda, and tea. Who wants what?"

Max trudged through the doorway and sank onto a barstool. "Orange soda," he said before Alex could jump in. Every inch of his body was throbbing; it was all he could do not to scream. Alex had been pushing for control all afternoon, attempting to knock over displays at Walgreens.

"Harper, sweetheart!" Theresa circled around the island and went to greet the guest. "What would you like to drink?"

"Water, please." Harper ran her fingers through her hair as she entered the kitchen. She was wearing another T-shirt of Justin's, and there was no makeup on her face. She took the seat next to Max and uttered a thanks when Theresa handed her a sweating plastic tumbler.

The door to the garage swung open. "Anyone seen Justin?" Jerry asked. "I need his keys to go put some gas in his car." Before anyone answered, there were footsteps on the stairs and Justin turned the corner, his hair dripping from a shower.

"Yeah, they're -" He faltered when his eyes met Harper's "-in my room. Want me to go get them?" Jerry nodded absently, and Justin, a grin breaking out on his face, turned around. Looking at the floor, Harper followed.

_Oh my God. Did you see that? _Alex shrieked. _There is totally something going on between them! _

"Shut up," Max groaned out loud. His mother paused in front of the stove, turned to look at Jerry, and then put on a brilliantly sympathetic smile.

"Honey, why don't you go sit on the couch and watch TV until dinner's ready?" She prodded the tortilla with a spatula. "I'll go ahead and pour you some soda, alright?"

_"Can I have Coke instead?_" Alex hopped off the stool and rubbed the back of her neck. "With no ice." She waited as Theresa poured the drink and passed it over the island.

I am gonna kill you.

_Can't. According to you and Justin, I'm already dead. _Alex took a long swig of Coke and traipsed into the living room. _Ah, I haven't had Coke in forever. Isn't it wonderful? _She smiled at Max's grunt of a response. He _hated_ Coke.

This can't go on forever, Alex. 

_Oh really? Watch it. _

Dinner was awkward, to say the very least. Theresa and Jerry made sporadic conversation about the rising cost of Halloween candy. Justin and Harper asked each other to pass the hot sauce and the guacamole and then blushed brilliantly when the other did so. Alex, who had gained control for the time being, spent the meal glaring at her brother and former best friend.

_Look how messed up her hair is! And he is totally blushing. I can't believe this, they _know_ how I feel about them dating. _

You don't have to be dating to-

_Ew! Don't even say it! _

"There's fresh chocolate chip cookies for dessert," Theresa said when everyone had finished their chimichangas. She motioned to a tupperware on the counter.

"Three days old isn't the same as fresh, honey."

Theresa rolled her eyes at her husband, then looked back at the kids.

"No thanks." Justin glared at Alex, and as soon as his parents left the table he whispered, "I need to talk to you, up in Max's room." He grabbed his brother's wrist and headed for the stairs, Harper following at a slower pace.

"I know what you're gonna say. But I've made up my mind - I don't want to lose Alex. I'm perfectly fine sharing my head with her, no big deal." There was a huge grin on his face.

Justin laughed sardonically. "Very funny, Alex."

The grin faded into a scowl.

"So how long have you been in control?"

"_Just_ _through_ _dinner_." She didn't meet his eyes.

Justin sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Did you not get _anything _out of our talk last night?"

"_Oh, I got it. Agreed with it? Not so much_." She flopped back onto the mattress and pretended to be very interested in the ceiling fan.

"Well, Harper and I have come up with a plan." Justin looked over at Harper as if for approval. She smiled, and he continued. "The two of us are gonna go back to the city tomorrow, but we're coming back to Hartford on Friday to pick up Max."

"You see," Harper went on, "he's going to spend the weekend in the city with his brother. And when he comes home on Sunday, he's going to be cured. All he needed was a little vacation, it turns out."

"_Wait." _Alex rumpled her brow. "_That's your big plan - we're going to New York? What's that going to change?" _She sat up and eyed Justin and Harper suspiciously.

"Oh, we're not going to New York City." Justin shook his head. "We're driving straight down to New Jersey."

Realization hit Alex slowly, and she crumpled back into the pillows. "_You wouldn't," _she said lifelessly.

"We have to. Think about Max."

Alex didn't move. She just pressed her eyes shut and pursed her lips. "_Max isn't here at the moment. Would you like to leave a message?" _

Harper started to say something, but closed her mouth in resignation. She felt Justin slide his own hand around hers, and for a long time the room was dead silent.

* * *

Would you like to know a secret?

I hate this. All of this. Controlling Max... it _hurts_. Like, a migraine all over my body. But I can't give up control. If I do that, I'll get pushed to the back and forgotten. And no one likes to be forgotten.

Don't let Justin's lies get to you. I'm not dead. I mean, how _can_ I be dead if I'm still here? Dead people are either up in Heaven or down in Hell or floating around graveyards as ghosts. Dead people can't play video games or eat chimichangas or lay on the couch all Saturday watching _16 and Pregnant_. Dead people can't talk. So you see, I'm not dead. I'm not dead at all. What happened in the loft was just an accident, a spell gone wrong. And I'm still here. I'm still alive.

I'm a miracle, you see? They should be thanking God, not trying to kill me.

Because I'm not going to go down without a fight.

* * *

Max opened his eyes to a dark room. Somewhere he heard the clinking of metal on ceramic, and what sounded like a... lawnmower? That wasn't right. Why on earth would someone be...

He tried to roll over to see the clock, but or some reason his body would not move. He tried to yell, but his mouth would not open.

Oh shit. Oh _shit_. He was paralyzed.

_"Feels great, doesn't it?" _Alex's voice came out of nowhere. He felt a vague pain in his throat. "_Me being in total control, I mean. I figured it out while you were sleeping. No more pain, no more fighting. It's just like old times, only backwards." _She giggled, and when she sat up he caught a flash of his bedroom, filled with sunlight.

It was the strangest thing Max had ever experienced. He felt like he was sitting in a dark theater, watching a flickering screen. He could hear perfectly as Alex left the bedroom and stomped down the stairs, a spring in her step. He heard her greet their parents and rummage in the pantry, and as she ate breakfast he caught an occasional taste of strawberry Poptart in the back of his mouth. He felt a strange reverberating in his throat when she spoke. Then, Justin's voice.

"_Mom_, I'll be back in like five days, don't stress."

Max saw a flicker of the kitchen as Alex turned to look at Justin.

"_See ya,"_ she said, and for the first time there was no Alex in her voice at all - just plain, monotone Max.

"Later, buddy." Justin ruffled his brother's hair. "Harper and I will be back to get you Friday."

"Oh, I'm so glad you two are going to be spending some quality time together." Max could hear the grin in his mother's voice.

Max felt Alex smile. _"Me too. It's gonna be fun_."

He heard Justin kiss Theresa on the cheek, and then call up the stairs, "Alright, Harper, you ready to go?" There was a flurry of commotion as Harper came downstairs and said goodbye to Theresa, then to Max. In what seemed like a matter of seconds, they were out the door and Justin's beat-up station wagon was sputtering into life.

Max was alone, trapped deep inside his own body, and no one knew.

* * *

_**A/N**__: And now, the story gets exciting. Well, after the next chapter. Alex's memory chapter is coming up next. It's pre-death, and we'll get some insight into her pregnancy. _


	13. Alex

_**A/N**_: _I'm sorry it's been so incredibly long. Two days after I posted the last chapter my best friend and I had a seven and a half hour Ouran High School Host Club marathon, and I became swallowed up in that fandom again. I'm trying to split my writing time between Psyche and Seven Ways to Die Trying, and as you can tell it's not working out too well. But I promise I'm still working on this one. I'm planning to finish it by the end of September so I can get my next story posted. :) _

_I do not own the lyrics to "Space Oddity". I am not David Bowie. I just thought the lyrics fit kind of well_**_. _**

_**

* * *

September 2008**_

The sheets were dark green, and the air smelled like Clorox and spicy cologne. She could not remember the words he had said or the order of events, but she could trace the inside of the room like her own name. An hour, at least, she had sat memorizing it as he dozed next to her.

Her black dress was draped over a desk chair, next to his shirt. Their shoes, red heels next to black patent leather, had fallen together against the dresser, like those of a married couple.

And they didn't look as good together as she thought they would.

* * *

_I'm stepping through the door _

_And I'm floating in a most peculiar way _

_And the stars look very different today_

* * *

Alex buried her face in the white towel and made promises to herself.

_If I can hold my breath for a whole minute..._

_If the clock has changed next time I look at it..._

_(_She stole a glance at the cat clock over her head.)

_If I can remember all the words to "The Twelve Days of Christmas", then I'm not pregnant_.

Alex swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to relax. She stretched her toes out on the soft bath mat. She tried to count backwards from fifty. Anything to keep her mind off-

"Alex? Is everything alright?"

"I don't know yet." Alex rubbed at her temples. _49, 48, 47. _

Pause. "Do you want me to come in there?"

"No. I'm fine." _What the hell came on the tenth day of Christmas? Wasn't that maids milking or something?_

"Alright," Harper called. "I'm going to make us some hot chocolate; I'll be right here if you need me."

Alex rubbed at her jaw. How long had she been clenching it? Her knuckles were white, and she could feel her palms slick with sweat. It was past time.

_If I can hold my breath_

She squeezed her eyes shut and set the long white object on the floor in front of her.

_If the clock has changed_

She inhaled deeply, until her chest ached.

_If I can remember the words_

Alex opened her eyes. Trembling, she looked down.

* * *

_And I'm floating in a most peculiar way_

_And the stars look very different today_

_

* * *

_

"You're exaggerating. Your mom isn't _actually_ going to kill you."

The bustle of the supermarket was enough to mask their conversation, but Alex was still on edge, wringing her hands as she followed Harper through the aisles.

"No," she replied, shaking her head, "she really is."

Harper frowned as she put a loaf of rye bread in her basket. "Alex, you made a mistake. She loves you, and she's going to forg-"

"Did I tell you about my cousin Esperanza?"

"Um... no." Harper paused and looked back at her best friend. Alex stared intently at her boots as she talked.

"She got knocked up when she was eighteen," she said a level voice. "My Aunt Ella kicked her out. I'd always thought she was the 'cool aunt', but she and my mom were raised thinking teen pregnancy is a ticket to Hell. Esperanza's kid's about three now, and she still isn't welcomed back for Christmas or anything." Alex fiddled with the ends of her sleeves; she wished so badly that she had never left her bed that morning. She felt like every eye in the store was turned to her; even the faces on the cereal boxes were listening in.

Harper squinted at the back of an oatmeal box. "Well, Esperanza was two years older than you. She was going to move out soon anyway."

Alex shook her head and fought the urge to lay down in the middle of the aisle. "No, Harper. You just don't get it." And that was the end of the conversation.

There was a whole drawer in her bedroom dedicated to Dean. It was full of old tokens from the arcade, receipts from their favorite restaurants. There was a small sandwich bag with four yellow petals and a scrap of paper reading, "Fall Formal, September 2008". A newspaper clipping of a sloppy joe. A plastic spider ring.

When Dean dumped her on the front stoop of her building, Alex crammed the contents of the drawer in a garbage bag, and threw it as hard as she could into the dumster.

All but the scrap of paper. That, she burned. She watched as the paper curled and blackened, until the only legible word was "Fall".

"Wow, someone's bitter."

Justin was leaning against the brick wall, one eyebrow raised as he watched his sister. She stuffed the candle lighter in her sweatshirt pocket and dropped the scrap of paper into the alley.

"You would be too," she muttered, resting her head in her hands. Justin inched closer, as though she might lash out and attack him.

"Are you feeling alright?"

"None of your business."

Justin leaned over and looked her in the eye. "You aren't looking yourself lately."

Alex pulled her hair in exasperation. "Has it ever occurred to you," she snapped, "that I'm a _little_ upset about Dean?" Her voice rose into a near-shout, and for a moment the wand tucked into her boot glowed with emotion. Justin stepped back and held his hands up.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He watched as Alex fixed her eyes once more on the alley below. "I understand, I've been through breakups too. It sucks." Alex remained silent, and for a long time neither of them spoke.

"Well," Justin said after awhile, "it's almost dinnertime. Dad made his lasagna-"

Alex's expression changed instantly: her eyebrows shot up, and she clamped a hand over her mouth as she ran inside. Justin, stunned, watched as the bathroom door slammed shut behind her.

* * *

_**October 29, 2008**_

Alex herself could hardly believe it - two months ago she had had nothing to worry about. Nothing to fear. Now...

She hadn't been to a doctor about the baby. If someone - someone other than Harper - found out, then that would make everything _real_. Alex would no longer be able to lie here at night and imagine, _I'm perfectly normal. There is no baby. That night with Dean never happened_. She would have to admit to herself that her life had changed for good, that she was a mother. Hell, she already _was_ a mother; she just hadn't met her baby.

"Why did I let this happen?" she asked herself aloud as she collapsed into bed. The loft was silent; the city outside her window was asleep. Alex pictured the rest of her family comfortable in their own beds, oblivious to the misery she was going through. But she could tell them. She couldn't tell them, because that would ruin everything.

It was so screwed up, all of it. She turned off the lamp and pulled the covers over her head, salty tears slipping over her cheeks and into her mouth. She rubbed her swollen stomach, and dug her nails into her skin until they left deep, painful marks.

* * *

_Though I've passed one hundred thousand miles, I'm feeling very still, and I think my spaceship knows which way go_

_Tell my wife I love her very much, she knows_

_

* * *

_

"I'll be down there in five minutes."

"Alex! You know you can't leave. You'll only get in more trouble."

"No, no I won't. I won't get in trouble, because it won't be me coming downstairs."

* * *

_And I'm floating in my tin can far above the moon_

_Planet Earth is blue, and there's nothing I can do. _


	14. Descent

_**A/N**: I know, I know, I'm horrible for making you wait so long. I have the rest of this story perfectly in my head, but for some reason this chapter was really hard to write. I kept having to stop and think about things, and then I'd get distracted. I've also been working on a story in another fandom, plus I've gotten into a new anime, and I'm suddenly getting lots of ideas for oneshots, and I'm working on fanfic100 (for the Jarper pairing, which is only helping them to hijack this story more), and NaNo is in a couple of months, and I have lots of homework. Yeah. Sorry to say that Psyche has taken a backseat. But that doesn't mean it's a lost cause. I will finish it in the next couple of months. That's a promise._

_**Disclaimer**: I don't own _Wizards_, I don't own _Charmed and Dangerous_, and I don't own Julia, but I did come up with the characters of Natalie and Bryce, and the title "The Dragon Thief". _

_

* * *

_

_**Descent |diˈsent| **- noun; a moral, social, or psychological decline into a specified undesirable state_

_

* * *

_

_The trouble was, Julia had failed to mention exactly what a dragon dog looked like_**.**

_ Natalie walked through the rows of crates, feeling the eyes of fifty groomed, whining dogs locked on her. Was Dragon the golden retriever? The schnauzer? Natalie bent down and looked at a chihuahua, checking it for the telltale tag. Its neck was bare. _

_ "Good doggie," Natalie whispered. _Don't show your fear, don't show your fear_. The chihuahua peered up at her with its great big brown eyes, a pink tongue lolling out of its tiny mouth. Then, it did something that sent a shudder of horror down Natalie's spine. _

_ It barked. _

_ The one solitary yip set off a sort of chain reaction - a second dog yipped, then a third one, until the entire room was ringing with barks. It was like gunfire, ricocheting off the concrete walls, and it was no doubt completely audible in the arena. Natalie covered her ears firmly with her hands and crouched down, continuing to look through the crates as the dogs barked eagerly for her attention. _

Red tag, red tag...

_Suddenly, there was a low growl from just around the corner. Natalie froze in place as a huge Mastiff advanced, its ugly head peering around like a great snake. A red tag hung from its neck. _

_Julia was so going to pay for making her do this_...

* * *

"_Dammit, I bit myself." _Alex crossed her eyes, trying to see the blood where she had bit her tongue. A spoonful of cereal tottered dangerously in one hand.

Theresa looked up from her side of the table. "Language, Max." There were dark circles under her eyes, and her voice was as blank as her face.

_This is great, _Alex gloated inwardly. _To think I've been missing all of this for the past three years_. She stretched her arms high over her head as she chewed her last bite of breakfast. The clock over the oven glowed _7:20_. Perfect. She was already doing better than Max, who would hardly have been out of bed by now.

Better than me? You've already gotten in trouble and it's not even time for school_. _Max scoffed. I'll hate to see you in class.

_Nonsense. I'm gonna be the best thing to happen to you since you came to Hartford High School. _Alex pushed the bowl of cereal to the center of the table, yawning widely as she did so. _C'mon, I have just the outfit picked out. _

They made it up the stairs in record time; the refreshing lack of a struggle put a grin on Alex's face, and she was in a spectacular mood as she traipsed towards Max's closet. "_I don't see why you don't wear the nice clothes Mom buys you," _she said out loud, rummaging through the nice jeans in the back corner. "_You'd look halfway presentable in these." _

Max didn't say anything.

_"And this polo shirt," _Alex went on, holding up a striped shirt. "_Or maybe the green one. What do you think?" _

No answer.

Alex frowned. "_You don't have to be a brat about it_," she scolded, but when Max was still silent she began to feel unnerved. "_Max? Grow up, it's not like I did anything to offend you. I'm just trying to help you look nice-"_

This is how it's always going to be from now on, huh. It was not a question. He sounded tired, distant, and terribly old.

Alex paused, her hands clutching the closet door. _Yeah_, she thought softly. _Yeah, I guess so. But you understand, right? Don't be selfish - this is how life has been for me for the past three years. Now we're equal, right? _

Max said nothing more, leaving Alex to dress in silence.

* * *

When Max had left for school and Jerry was cleaning up in the sandwich shop and all of the dishes were done, Theresa collapsed on the sofa and tried not to think. She took in the silence of the empty house, and let the worries of the day flit around in her mind until they got lost and vanished altogether. These days, few things felt better than a moment alone. It was like kicking off a pair of painful shoes, and finally nursing the blisters.

This life was exhausting. It wore her down, and no one could ever commiserate, not even other parents of bipolar teens. Because Max was different. There were no other cases like his, even the doctors said so. He had periods of happiness, of near-normalcy, but it was not what anyone could call manic. It was like he had two distinct personas, and they could swap within seconds. Sometimes a bad mood would not even last through dinner; he would smiling again by the end of the meal. Was that normal for someone with BPD? Theresa had so many questions, but she had no idea who to turn to for another opinion.

Theresa no longer believed that bipolar disorder was the correct diagnosis. She didn't know what was wrong with her youngest child, but something just didn't add up. And she was at her wit's end.

Two weeks ago, she had been changing Max's sheets when the corner of the mattress lifted up, and she found a neat pile of little crimson pills. His medicine. There had been at least two months' worth; he had been pulling this off since summer, maybe even before. The thought chilled her, and she immediately dropped the mattress back into place.

But she did not interrogate Max. She did not bring it up at dinner, or barge into his room that night and demand for him to lift up the mattress himself.

Somehow, she understood. She sympathized. And she wondered, if this was hard on her and Jerry, what kind of Hell must Max be going through?

The grandfather clock in the foyer chimed nine. Theresa did not realize she had been dozing until the sound of the sandwich shop door startled her awake. The smell of baking bread reached her like smoke, and she looked up to see Jerry closing the door behind him. He caught his wife's eye, and smiled.

"Have a nice nap?"

Theresa shrugged. "I couldn't sleep last night. Can't sleep now, either. My head is too full."

Jerry's brow creased in concern. "I know this is always a hard week for you, honey."

"No, it's not that." Theresa shook her head as Jerry came to join her on the couch. "It's Max. Jerry... I don't know what to do anymore. What... what do you think will happen to him?"

"I don't know, baby."

Theresa felt the sting of hot tears, and buried her face in her husband's shoulder. "I want to think he's going to get better," she said, her throat beginning to constrict, "but what if we aren't qualified to take care of him?"

Jerry looked down at her. He knew perfectly well what she meant, but he still asked, "What's the supposed to mean?", as if feigning ignorance would make it less real.

"What if he needs to be sent somewhere?" There was a look of horror on Theresa's face as she relayed her deepest fear. "Some kind of facility, or a mental hospital. I don't think I could handle that."

"Whatever happens, happens." It was hardly comforting, but it was all he had to offer.

A single sob escaped Theresa's lips. "I just want what's best for our baby boy, but... but..."

Jerry's face turned cold. "Theresa," he said, hardly above a whisper, "he's not our baby boy anymore. I don't know who he is, but he's not our Max."

* * *

Justin returned to his dorm shortly before five to find Harper lying on his bed, sound asleep with her head on the pillow and a fresh legal pad clutched to her chest. He tried not to wake her, but the door squeaked loudly behind him; he held his breath as he watched Harper open one eye, then the other. She gave him an ironically innocent smile, then patted the mattress beside her.

"How was class?" she asked as Justin untied his sneakers. His hair was rustled from the wind, and for a moment he looked a lot like Alex in the face.

"Ah, the usual." Justin tossed his shoes into a corner and fell back onto the bed with an enthusiasm that made Harper smile. "It was just math. Like always."

Harper could see the excitement behind his eyes, that twinkle that she knew came only from learning something new. If he got to talking about math, he wouldn't shut up for hours; he was trying to do Harper a favor by pretending that he didn't care. A grin on her face, Harper grabbed the collar of his shirt and gently tugged him down to the mattress beside her.

"So," Harper said, "what do you want for dinner tonight? I have all the ingredients for spinach lasagna back home, and I can pick up some French bread on my way home in a few minutes."

"My favorite." Justin had a goofy grin on his face. He turned onto his left side so that he was facing Harper. "But who said you could leave so soon, huh?" He leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on her lips. Then, in a softer voice, "I can't believe I went so many years without doing that."

"I gave you plenty of opportunities," Harper chided. She returned the kiss, then giggled into his neck. "Maybe that's why you never would. I guess I _was_ a little creepy."

"Creepy?" Justin's voice rose several pitches. "Naw, you weren't creepy_..._ Alright, maybe a little overbearing, but never _creepy_." He gave Harper his most honest smile, then said, to change the subject, "I like your earrings. Are these new?"

The earrings in question were about the size of half dollars, and were made to look like the dials on old-fashioned telephones, with shiny numbers all painted in a circle. They were clearly Harper Finkel originals, by the smug look she got when Justin complimented them, and while they looked bizarre and out of place above the drab corduroys and Columbia University sweatshirt, it was almost a look back to the old Harper. A calling card. An olive brach, telling Justin that not all of his world had vanished that cold, rainy day in October.

"Thanks," she said with a brilliant grin. "I made them yesterday. It feels so good to be crafting again. I even cleaned off my old worktable." She took her eyes off of Justin and looked up at the ceiling, as if she was seeing something clear in her mind. "Something feels so right about it. I don't know how I've made it three years without touching a single piece of fabric... But just think, if I'd gone to design school I might have been in class or something that day we ran into each other at the supermarket. Then we never would have met back up, and I never would have known about Alex or any of this."

Justin nodded slowly, and a smile grew on his flushed face. "Weird to think about, huh?" he said softly.

Harper reached out and touched Justin's face, feather light. "So much has happened," she whispered, her soft eyes locking with Justin's. And they stayed silent for several long moments.

"It's still a couple of hours before dinnertime." Justin traced the line of Harper's cheekbone. "How do you want to spend them?"

Harper let her fingers trail down to his belt buckle.

"That," Justin breathed, "is an excellent idea."

But no sooner had Harper pulled off her sweatshirt and hoisted herself up over her boyfriend (it still thrilled her just to think that word), than there was the sudden buzz of a vibrating cell phone.

"Let it ring," Justin protested when Harper started to move off of him, but she shook her head.

"What if it's important? I can wait."

With a slight moan and an apologetic look at Harper, Justin reached down and pulled his phone out of his pocket. The front screen read _Mom_ and his heart leaped a little.

"Hey, Mom, what's up?" Justin sat up, blushing when he realized that Harper still had her arm draped over his shoulder. "Is everything alright?"

Theresa sounded almost sick over the phone. "Justin, I'm so glad I caught you between classes. Listen, your father and I have to leave on Thursday instead of Friday. Your grandmother is having surgery in Pittsburgh and Uncle Ernesto won't be in town to be there for her. Would it be alright if you went ahead and picked Max up a day early?"

Justin narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, that would be fine, I guess. Is something wrong, Mom? You sound... upset."

"It's just a little cold, I'll be fine _mijo_." There was a short silence, and a soft sniffle. "How have _you_ been, honey? Do you have any big tests? Are you seeing Harper often?"

"Um, yeah, it's all great. How's Max?"

Silence. Then, "Justin..."

Justin held his breath as he rose from the bed. "Mom, what's wrong? Did something-"

"He went straight to bed when he came home from school, and I can't get him back up." There was another sniff, this one louder than the last. "I'm so worried for him, Justin. Something isn't right. There's something that the doctors aren't catching."

Justin looked down at his watch, and made a quick decision. "I'm coming tonight. Harper and I will come get him tonight."

"But you have school-"

"Nothing that can't wait." Justin forced a smile, even if his mother couldn't get it. "Family comes first, right? We'll leave right away. Love you, Mom." Then, he hung up.

Harper gathered her legs in front of her on the bed, and fingered the material of her sweatshirt. There was so much to say, but neither of them spoke for several long moments. "I guess I should put this back on?" she said at last, but there was not so much regret in her voice as there was calm resignation.

Justin stopped in the middle of tying his shoe. "I'm so sorry, Harper. I promise, I'll make it up to you first chance I-"

She scooted forward and pressed a finger to his lips. "It's alright. Now let's go get Max."

Justin opened his mouth to speak, but something stopped him. "Harper," he managed, "you do know what this means, right? We have to do it tonight."

"Yeah." Harper's face was calm and clear. "I know. And I can't say I'm totally cool with it, but it's what has to happen. That's just how life is, right?"

Justin grabbed her hand. "Yeah. That's right."

* * *

Alex? It's me, Harper. I know you can't hear me, I'm just being silly (what else is new?).

But I wanted you to know that I get it.

You and Dean... I never really understood. When you told me you slept with him, my exalted image of you was shaken. You were so strong, so independent. I couldn't imagine why you would want to give yourself so wholly to someone, when you couldn't be sure that any great things would come of it.

But I understand now. In that way, we are as alike as sisters. But we are also very, very different.

When you took that next step into adulthood, it ruined you. It was your end.

And when I took the same step, when I gave myself so completely to your brother... it was as though I had just begun.

I would someday like to know what it is that makes us so different, but somehow I don't think I ever will.

Goodbye, Alex. I love you so much.

* * *

_But just as the great dog began to leap, there was another cry from behind Natalie. _

_ "Dragon!" Julia called, bounding past her best friend and grabbing onto her dog's collar. "How did you get out of your cage?" _

_ Natalie clutched her chest, sure that her heart was going to explode from fright. "I think I have an idea." She grimaced as she smelled burning plastic, and with one shaking finger she pointed at a huge hole in the side of one of the larger crates. _

_ Julia laughed. "And you couldn't do that to Bryce's room when I asked you to?" She turned to Natalie, a familiar twinkle in her eye. "You alright?" Natalie nodded. "C'mon let's get this guy out of here. We have a dog thief to catch." _

_- Excerpt from _Charmed and Dangerous #3: The Dragon Thief,_ by H.J. Darling, to be released Summer 2015._

_

* * *

_

_**A/N**: In Chapter 15, the big plan is put into action, and Alex's final hours are ticking away. But she isn't going down without a fight. I'm so glad I've made it this far, and I can't wait to see what all of my readers think of the finale I have planned. Just a few more chapters..._


	15. Hostage

**_A/N: _**_T__his chapter was supposed to be a lot longer, but I felt like it ended more cleanly here than if I had kept going. _

_

* * *

_

_**hostage |ˈhästij| **- noun; a person seized and held as security for the fulfillment of a condition. _

**November 2, 2011**

The station wagon pulled into the driveway at half past eight, and the whole neighborhood started talking.

Justin had only lived in Hartford for a year and a half before he moved back to the city, but everyone seemed to know all about him anyway. Twenty years old, five foot ten, premed at Columbia University, always orders a single slice of cheese pizza at Vito's (and eats it with a fork and knife).

What no one was sure of, was why he arrived home in such a hurry the night of November 2nd, just days after leaving for school, with a stout redhead in boy's clothes hanging off of his arm.

He was fathering an illegitimate child, and had brought home the girl to break the news.

He was eloping, and had come to say goodbye.

There had been an emergency in the family, and he had been forced to rush home (closer, but no cigar).

"I feel like I'm being watched." Harper's breath came out in a white puff. It had been raining, so the parking lot was slick and glistening with puddles. On the far side, it was easy to make out a pair of silhouettes watching from a second-story window.

"The neighbors are like cats, I swear." Justin laced his fingers with Harper's and tugged her towards the front walk. The restaurant was open, but they could see only a couple of customers having coffee or dessert; in the corner, a couple of teenagers from Max's school were kissing covertly.

The front door was unlocked, and inside the house was silent. Justin smelled Chinese food; Theresa had not cooked.

"Mom? I'm home!" He led Harper through the foyer and into the living room, where Theresa was fast asleep on the couch, an open Bible propped in her lap. Justin looked at Harper, held a finger to his lips, and continued up the stairs to Max's room.

The lights were off, but the TV was turned on to some music video, casting a blue flicker across the messy room. Justin could make out his brother's backpack, its contents strewn across the floor, and an open magazine was perched on top of the television set.

In the corner of his bunk bed, curled up in such a small shape that he might have been a pillow, was Max. He was dressed in pajama pants and a polo shirt, and his face was covered with his small hands. He was still as a corpse.

"Max? Buddy? You alright?" Justin took a massive step over his brother's schoolbooks, and crouched down to shake the boy. Max made a sort of grunting noise, which was good, but did not bother to move. One eyelid fluttered up briefly, then closed again.

"I don' wanna talk to anyone righ' now." His speech was tired and slurred.

Justin looked over at Harper, as if for guidance, but she was as dumbfounded as him. Theresa had not been exaggerating.

"Max, you need to get up." Justin shook his bother lightly. "Can you hear me? Are you in control?"

But it was not Max who answered. "_What the hell are you doing back here?"_ Alex snapped, lifting up her head just enough to show dark eyes and a shadowy face. "_Did Mom call you? We don't need any help!" _

"Alex!" Harper stomped forward and grabbed her friend by the wrist. "Calm down, we just came a day early to take Max back to New York City. You don't have to get so hostile."

There was a scraping noise as Justin pulled open one of his brother's dresser drawers. He tossed a pair of blue jeans at Max, followed by a pair of socks and a grey hoodie that had been draped over the doorknob. "You have two choices: get up and get dressed, or we'll do it for you."

"_Alright_, _alright_," Alex muttered, pulling herself off the bed. In moments she had wriggled out of the pajama pants and was yanking the blue jeans over Max's plaid boxers.

While Alex dressed, Justin grabbed the backpack, intending to pack. But it was already full; there were two shirts, a pair of jeans, some pajamas...

And Max's old wand.

Either Max was anticipating a struggle, or Alex was planning to fight back.

Shaking the negativity from his head, Justin hoisted the bag over his shoulder and checked the time on his cell phone. It was just after nine. The drive to Lakewood, New Jersey usually took three hours, but with few people on the road at this time of night it was bound to be quicker. There was an uncomfortable pang in his stomach. In less than four hours, it would all be over.

"Come on, it's not getting any earlier." Justin looked over his shoulder at Alex, who was searching for the TV remote. She flicked him off and continued looking.

"_Who stuck a pipe up your ass?_"

Harper laughed at this, but didn't turn around. She was focused on a framed photo that sat behind some clutter on Max's dresser, a picture of the Russo siblings as children one Halloween.

"When was this taken?" she asked Justin softly. He peered over her shoulder and screwed up his brow.

"Ah," he said after a moment. "That was my third grade year, so... 2000? Don't I make the cutest astronaut?"

"That's what you're supposed to be?" Harper picked up the frame. "I thought you were the Michelin man." She examined the three, small faces; so familiar, but so foreign. Like people she had dreamed up, and forgotten by morning. An eight-year-old Alex, dressed up as a genie, held tightly onto the chubby shoulders of her little brother; Max, five-years-old and so innocent, looked up from beneath the brim of his cowboy hat. It was impossible to imagine that they still existed in this world, right here in this very room.

"_Okay, I'm packed_." Alex held up the backpack in demonstration. "_Can we just go now_?"

Harper eyed Justin, suspicion in her pale face. He nodded brusquely.

* * *

Alex tried to escape almost as soon as they stepped out the front door. Justin, prepared for this, grabbed his brother's small body and easily lifted him into a crushing bridal hold.

"How did I know you were going to do that?" Justin said with a dark smirk.

"_You bastard! Let me down, I don't want to go-"_

"Shut up, do you want the neighbors to hear us?"

Alex stopped struggling for a moment. "_And get you arrested for kidnapping? Come to think of it..." _She had just opened her mouth to take a deep breath, when Harper stepped in and gave her a chilling glare.

"This is for your own good, believe it or not," she snapped, irritation etched in her face. For the first time, Justin noticed dark circles beneath Harper's eyes.

Alex stuck out her tongue and flung her elbow in the direction of Justin's face. It hit his chin, but Max's arms were small enough that it did little damage. Justin managed to keep a hold on his brother until they reached the station wagon, which was parked on the street in front of the house. No doubt, legions of soccer moms and kindly old couples alike had spotted them by now. Justin would forever be known as the rebel son; in later weeks it would be speculated that poor Max Russo had been forced into a traumatizing gang initiation, which is why he came home from New York City with such a drastically different personality.

_"I'm not getting in this car! You can't make me!"_

But Justin could. He tossed his little brother's body in the backseat, helped Harper climb in after, and then rushed around to the driver's side in record time. He locked the doors and smashed the key into the ignition before Alex could get her bearings. Her face appeared in the rearview mirror, waxen and trembling with rage.

_"I can't believe this! You asshole, how the hell could you do this to your own sister!" _Alex slammed her fists repeatedly into the back of the headrest. She was screaming now, causing Max's voice to go up into a nearly comical octave. The result was anything but funny. It chilled Justin's bones and made him think of a possessed child in a horror movie.

If Alex survived this night by some mistake, she was never going to speak to Justin again. That much was clear. He had never seen such blind fury on his brother's face, even if it was not his own.

_"I hate you so much! I hate both of you, and Max too!" _

"I just filled up the tank," Justin struggled to say over his sister's yelling, "so we should be good for a few hours."

"How far away is the Parkway?" Harper asked conversationally, her grip on Max's shoulders loosening now that they had put some distance between them and the Russos' house.

"We have a ways to go on Route 9, first." Justin reached over and picked up a sheet of paper, on which directions had been printed out from the internet. "Then we take the Palisades Interstate Parkway... Damn, I hope I don't get us lost, I'm awful with directions."

"_And with driving," _Alex jabbed. "_Just pick a speed and go with it_."

Justin turned slightly red in the face, but Harper had a laugh at his expense.

For just a single, fleeting second, the atmosphere lifted.

Then, Alex passed out.

"Justin!" Harper screeched. She fought against the restraint of the seatbelt, then undid it altogether. Her hands flew to Max's thin, pale face. "Justin, what do I do?"

Justin looked as bewildered as Harper; his dark eyes were wide in the rearview mirror, shifting nervously as he thought. But just as he began to pull over, Max's eyes flickered open.

"What happened?" It was Max, not Alex, who spoke. "What am I..." There was a flash of recognition as he looked around the car, taking in Harper's panicked face. "Oh. Right."

"Are you feeling dizzy?" Harper checked his pulse and laid a hand across his forehead. "You don't feel feverish... Have you eaten enough today?"

"Actually, I'm kind of hungry." Max frowned. "I haven't eaten since dinner last night."

Justin nearly slammed on the brakes. "That's more than twenty-four hours! Why haven't you eaten?"

His brother shrugged. "Alex is being a big nuisance. I haven't had the energy."

Her face creasing with anxiety, Harper furrowed her eyebrows and asked, "How is it that you're in control right now?"

"She got tired, maybe." Max rubbed the back of his neck absently. "I can hear her mumbling. She's trying to-" And just like that, the soft timidity faded from his eyes, and Alex's harsh spark returned.

"_What are you looking at?"_ she snapped. _"I'm fine. Get your hands off of me_." She slapped Harper's arm away, struggling to sit back up.

Justin narrowed his eyes; they were full of irritation, and something darker that Harper didn't want to acknowledge. "We're pulling off at the next exit to get something to eat," he said, his voice level. "You aren't getting out of the car, Alex, so don't even think that you'll have another chance to get away."

Harper felt uncomfortable at the hostility in Justin's voice, but she could not blame him. What she was putting up with now, he had been going through for the past three years. Holding her tongue, she loosened her grip on Max's thin wrist, and settled into the corner of the stale backseat. This was going to be a very long night.

* * *

They stopped at a Wendy's about twenty minutes outside of Hartford, and Justin kept true to his promise: stuffing the keys in his pocket, he locked the doors and hurried into the near-empty building. Harper watched with a strange sense of abandonment; she could feel Alex's eyes boring into her back from across the seat.

"_You and Justin are getting pretty friendly, huh?" _Alex said after a couple of minutes. There was ice in her voice.

Harper shrugged.

"_This is what you've always wanted, right? Now that you'll be rid of me, the two of you will be free to-"_

"Alex!" Harper looked up, alarmed, even though there was no one else to hear.

"_Sheesh_, _I was only going to say 'date'," _Alex lied. "_Don't wet yourself._"

Harper frowned. Her heart hurt. By the end of tonight, she wasn't sure there would be any of it left. "And what if we _are_ dating? Why do you have such a big problem with it?"

"_It's gross. He's my brother, and you're like my sister. It's incest!" _

"I don't see your logic in that." Harper felt a yawn creep up her throat. She had no energy to argue with Alex, especially about something so juvenile. What were they, sixteen?

Harper blinked slowly. _Oh. Right_.

For the moment, Alex seemed to have forgotten that she was being held hostage. Her posture relaxed, and she leaned forward a bit on the seat, like a cat waiting to be fed. "_So, completely ignoring how gross it is that it's my _brother_... what did I tell you? Wasn't it fun?" _

"You didn't say it was fun." Harper shook her head, recalling that conversation from what seemed like a decade ago. Hell, it felt like a different lifetime. "You said it wasn't all it cracked up to be."

Alex crossed her arms over her chest, taken aback. "_I-I only said that because I didn't want you to be jealous_."

That almost made Harper smile. "Yeah, yeah. Just keep telling yourself that," she prodded.

_Just like teenagers_. _We sound just like we're fifteen again_.

They were interrupted when the car locks clicked, and Justin appeared at the driver's window, holding a white paper bag. He opened the rusty door, and a burst of cold air followed him.

"Alright," he said, reaching into the bag, "I have three cheeseburgers - one with no condiments for Alex - and a large Coke."

Alex settled back into her funk as they passed around the food. Justin closed the door behind him, and they ate in complete silence. It was as though the brief, friendly conversation had never happened, though Harper could still feel the pang of nostalgia deep in her chest. It rose and grew, pushing at her lungs, until she felt the familiar pressure of tears behind her eyes.

She had already lost her best friend three years ago. She had said goodbye once, so why was it so hard to do it again?

* * *

Almost no one was on the interstate that night. A few eighteen-wheelers roared past, but a freezing night in early November did not seem to be a popular travel time. The sky was cloudy; no moon, no stars. The world ended in a blanket of swirling clouds, and there was nothing more that the eye could see.

Alex fell asleep after awhile, her face pressed against the window, her lips moving occasionally to mumbled something incoherent. In sleep, it was impossible to tell whether Alex or Max was in control of Max's body. Things almost seemed normal again. It was a preview of what was coming, Harper imagined.

"How much longer?" she asked sleepily, wrapping her arms around Justin's headrest. He met her eyes in the rearview mirror.

"We've only been driving for forty-five minutes, Harper." He gave a wry half-smile. "It's still more than two hours before we get to Lakewood."

Harper yawned widely. "It's been a long day."

"And it's still getting longer," Justin agreed, reaching back to stroke her hand. "But everything is going to be alright. I promise."

"Alright for us, you mean." There were unshed tears in Harper's voice. "This is the last day of Alex's life, and here we are celebrating."

There was a long pause, then Justin met her eyes again. "Harper, if you really don't want to do this, I don't want to be the one to force you to. She was _your_ best friend."

But Harper shook her head. "I don't want to do it. I don't want to lose her for good. But then, I look at Max and remember that I _have_ to. We're doing this, Justin. No matter what."

Justin smiled a little, and squeezed her hand. "No matter what," he echoed.

Either Alex or Max mumbled something about pumpkins in their sleep. _Probably Max_, Harper thought. She felt the corner of her mouth tug upward a little. Things were going to be okay. They were going to have Max back. What could be bad about that?

She had just dozed off when the car sputtered, choked, and came to a shaky halt, right in the middle of the Palisades.

Years later, when Harper looked back on the evening, she would not remember the smell of smoke, or Alex waking up and asking when breakfast was. She would not remember Justin's cell phone powering down, or her own refusing to lock onto a signal in the middle of rural New York.

No, what she would remember the most was the look of fear and wonder in Alex's eyes when a tow truck pulled up beside them, and a familiar face leaned out of the passenger side window.

"Need a lift?"

In three long years, Dean Moriarty had not changed a bit.

* * *

**_A/N: _**_I'm so mean to poor Alex. Three more chapters, plus the epilogue. The next one might be a little while, because I have a busy month ahead of me. But I'm not going to bow out so close to the end, I swear._


	16. Peril

_I guess there's really nothing I can say to alleviate the frustration of an almost-year-long hiatus. There were numerous reasons as to why this chapter was delayed so long, the two most important being 1) that I'm a full-time student with a busy schedule, and 2) I lost this chapter twice, and after the file vanished for the second time, I kind of lost my will to write it. It's a bit short, but it's finally here. After this, there will be one more chapter and an epilogue. I can't say for sure when, since school starts in a few days, but they will happen. I absolutely promise you that. _

_I'm also sorry that I've been so lax on answering your messages and reviews. I really appreciate all of them - you have all been very polite and gracious in asking about Psyche, and I'm grateful for that. I have awesome readers, and I hope that the conclusion to the story doesn't disappoint. :) _

* * *

**_Peril |ˈperəl|- _**_noun; serious and immediate danger_

It took fifteen minutes to get to the garage, and the trip would have been completely silent if Justin hadn't taken on the noble challenge of politely conversing with Dean. They discussed school ("Not goin' right now. They need me at the shop, ya know?"), girls ("Yeah, 'course I remember Harper. How ya been, cutie?"), and pointedly avoided the dead sister topic. Finally, the wheezing truck pulled off the interstate and the flickering lights of the Leon's Auto Services sign came into view.

Dean was first out of the truck, and disappeared around back to deal with Justin's car. For a few moments, it was completely silent. Justin and Harper locked knowing glances, but Alex stayed completely still. It was hard to tell whether or not she was in control; Max's eyes looked dulled and sluggish, but his fists were balled up tightly - definitely Alex. And definitely angry.

"I guess we'd, uh, better get out," Justin finally said, unbuckling his seatbelt. The door opened with a click, and he stepped out into the cold, clear night. The air smelled like fuel and pine trees. The garage seemed to be closed; the only light was an emergency exit sign glowing red in the front window.

Max did not move, even after Harper had jumped out of the cab. Instead, he just looked at Justin and said, in a clearly strained voice, "She's shouting. A lot. We can't stay here long."

"Of course." Justin stepped forward to help his brother. "We'll leave as soon as we can get a ride."

Harper looked nervous. She glanced down at the time on her cell phone. "Justin... we could be stuck overnight, and we're kind of in the middle of nowhere. If we call your parents for a ride, they'll know we're not going into the city."

Justin froze, his expression contorting into one of frustration. "_Shit_, we should have planned ahead for something like this." He craned his neck, looking for signs of civilization. But the only thing around the garage was dark woods. "Maybe Dean can help us find a hotel or something. My parents won't know, as long as we pay in cash-"

"I'm pretty sure it's a dead battery." Dean's voice came from the rear of the tow truck. "There's a jumper cable inside the garage, but I don't have a key with me. I just came to drop of the tow truck, and get my own." He appeared around the corner of the truck, an apologetic look on his face; he gestured to a pickup truck parked at the far end of the lot. "There's a Days Inn in Nanuet, about two minutes from here, if you want me to drive you over there. Or you could come back to my apartment if you don't want to spent the mon-"

"The hotel will be fine," Harper interrupted; she could almost feel Alex staring right through her, at Dean, from behind Max's eyes.

"Great!" Dean seemed relieved. "I'll just get this car off the tow truck, leave a note for the guys, and we'll be good to go." He gave Harper and Justin a cheery smile, and then disappeared once more to the back of the truck.

Harper looked up at Justin, and nearly smiled. "Well, at least we'll be out of here pretty soon."

"Yeah." Justin hazarded a glance up at Alex, who was sulking more than ever. "Disaster averted," he added under his breath.

"_I heard that." _Alex narrowed her eyes, glaring down at her brother and friend with frightening intensity.

"And?" Justin raised one eyebrow. "I just meant that I thought you handled the situation well."

"_As opposed to _what_? Did you expect me to screw things up? Pounce on him?" _Alex was being irrational. There was something else bothering her besides Dean, Justin could tell. _"Just because I'm _dead_ doesn't mean I'm stupid or something." _

"He never said it did," Harper defended, but Alex hardly seemed to hear her.

"_We wouldn't even be stuck here if it weren't for you! If you weren't so eager for me to be dead, then-"_

"Am I interrupting something?" Dean was standing right behind Justin. He stared up at Max, looking bewildered, and then turned to Justin and Harper. There was a slow dawning in his eyes, as though he had just discovered something unpleasant. He took one step back towards the garage, a tinge of panic registering in his eyes.

Justin hurried to the rescue, his cheeks flushed red. "My brother doesn't know what he's talking about. He's bipolar, see, and he has these manic phases-"

_"I am not crazy!" _

"-and you'll just have to excuse him, because he can get a little out of hand." Justin forced a smile, praying inwardly that Dean bought it. The mechanic looked dubious for several long, nervous moments, but at last he just shook his head and took a deep breath, as though trying to rid himself of a bad dream.

"Man, that must suck," he said, half to Justin and half to Max. "I'm sorry you guys are having to deal with that."

"Yeah, it's awful," Harper threw in for good measure. "Isn't it, Max?"

"_... Dreadful_."

"But we get through it. He's doing great." Justin stepped over and clapped a hand on his brother's back. It was like slapping paper, he was so thin. "We're all so proud of him."

"_Overkill_," Alex hissed through clenched teeth, but Dean did not seem to hear. He went right back to the rear of the truck, but with a strange darkness in his eyes. He looked spooked, almost.

As soon as they were alone again, Justin turned on Alex, his arms crossed firmly over his chest. "Smooth, Alex. Very nice behavior back there." His words were sticky with sarcasm.

_"Like that asshole is really smart enough to put two and two together and figure out, 'Oh, they're wizards, and that boy is actually Alex Russo'." _Alex laughed at her own words. "_Dean's a troll. He didn't pick up on a thing-"_

"Yeah, except that we're apparently eager for you to be dead," Justin said sourly. "Thanks to your mouth, Dean probably thinks we're dangerous, and then he'll be watching us like a hawk. I'd be surprised if he hasn't already called the cops on me and Harper."

Harper laid a hand on Justin's shoulder. "You're overreacting, Justin. Just calm down; Dean's not gonna do anything like that."

Justin looked down at her, and his expression softened.

"_Oh, you listen to Harper instead of me now, do you? Suddenly I'm not important?" _

This was getting very old. Justin wheeled around on his sister, a look of determined finality on his face. "Alex, stop acting like a kid. I know you're upset about seeing Dean-"

"_Who said I was upset?" _

"It's all over your face. You haven't seen him in over three years, and it's bound to be difficult. We understand that. But you have to keep your emotions under control, or he'll know something's up with us." Justin said this all in stage whisper; Dean had moved back within earshot, and was whistling softly to himself.

There was the familiar shimmer of tears in Alex's eyes, but nothing rolled onto her cheeks. Her face was set in firm anger, and Max's unruly curls almost seemed to prick up with electricity. "_Don't talk to me about Dean_," she snapped, her voice rising. "_You can't possibly know what it's like to have your life totally ripped apart by someone. If it weren't for him, none of this-" _she gestured to Max's body "-_would have happened. And you ask me to be calm around him? He ruined my life!" _The last words were almost a shout, and Justin scrambled up into the cabin to try to quiet his sister down. But no sooner had Justin's foot stepped onto the floorboard than Alex sprang forward with tremendous strength, Max's thin hands shoving Justin backwards. The older boy teetered for a split second, but before he could grab onto anything he had slipped out of the cab. He landed with a _thump_, the back of his head striking the pavement.

Harper dropped to the ground. "Justin!"

"I'm okay, I'm fine," Justin said quickly, rubbing at his head as he started to sit up. But Harper did not stick around - her feet had barely touched the ground when something caught her attention.

Alex had escaped from the cab, and was making a mad dash for the highway. And with speed and determination that Justin had not thought the girl was capable of, Harper took off after her.

Justin scrambled to his feet, but a voice stopped him before he could follow.

"There's something not right about you guys." For the first time since Justin had known him, Dean looked frightened. "There's something you're not telling me, a-and I don't care what it is, but you just promise me right now, Justin Russo, that your brother wasn't telling the truth about you wanting him dead." He pointed one shaking, grease-stained finger in Justin's face.

"Um..." Justin swallowed. He wanted so badly to turn his head, to make sure that Harper had caught up with Alex – to make sure they were alright - but Dean's intense stare had him dumbfounded. Justin had always been a terrible liar, and he had a feeling that anything he said would be transparent even to Dean. But it was worth a shot at least. That's all he could do – try, and hope for the best.

"You see," Justin began, his voice shaking, "it's all because of Alex. He was the only one who, um, saw it happen, and it really messed him up..."

Dean's expression saddened at Alex's name, but his fists remained tightly clenched. "You swear you're telling the truth? Nothing funny going on here?"

Justin opened his mouth to say, "I swear," but never got the chance. Because at that moment, there was an explosion of shouting from the street, and both boys turned their heads in alarm.

For one crazy moment, Justin thought that Harper was hugging Alex, but when he heard Alex cursing, he realized that this was quite the opposite. Harper's arms were locked around Max's shoulders, but Alex was struggling with all of her might to break free.

And finally, she did.

"Alex!" Justin yelled, breaking into a run. He didn't even care that Dean was standing dumbfounded behind him. All he could focus on was his sister scrambling across the exit ramp towards open grass, Harper trying to race behind her, but instead collapsing on a newly injured ankle. The orange light from the streetlamps bobbed in his vision, and for the first time he noticed how badly his head hurt.

He did not hear the truck until it was too late. And unfortunately, neither did Harper or Alex.

Alex had made it to the other side of the highway, and was clambering up the grassy incline when the horn sounded. She turned around, and her eyes widened in panic. "_Harper_!" Max's voice rang out, but Harper seemed paralyzed with fear or shock, still kneeling in the center of the road, her hands clutched tightly around her ankle.

_The truck was not stopping. _

Justin sprinted madly across the asphalt, his head pounding, his vision tunneling. Twenty more yards. Fifteen more yards.

_The truck was still not stopping_.

He was not aware of reaching into his back pocket, but suddenly Justin was waving his wand, trying to think of a spell, any spell, something to move a truck, or stop a truck, or...

Or stop time.

"_Gialsjay Timesday_!" Justin gave his wand such a violent wave that he nearly lost grip.

And just like that, the world went silent. The truck froze in place, the noise from the Interstate cut off. Justin finally risked a look backwards, where Dean's body had been stopped mid-sprint. There was no way that the three of them would be getting off scott-free after this. They would have to alter his memory, at least.

Rubbing at his head, Justin started towards the road, hopping slowly and unsteadily on one foot. His sneaker scraped against the pavement, and his head throbbed in a sickening rhythm. Finally, he made it to the edge of the highway. The grill of the truck had come to a halt just feet in front of Harper's horrified face, and Justin felt his stomach flop.

Getting her out from in front of the truck was a tedious job on one foot. Fortunately, it did not last long – no sooner had he scooted her out of danger than his leg swayed the wrong way. The second his left foot touched the asphalt, the world exploded back into sound and motion. The wind from the speeding truck whipped his hair around, and next to him, Harper collapsed to the ground in shock.

"What the _fuck_?"

Dean's voice echoed across the parking lot, bewildered and outraged, and that was all the prodding it took for Justin to jump to his feet, grab hold of Harper's arm, and take off after Alex at a sprint.

"_Let me go after him!" _Alex was still shouting. "_I'll kill- _OW!" She yelped as Justin's hand closed tightly around her wrist, tugging her farther up the hill and towards God-knew-what. But if Dean was in the other direction, then up was the only way to go.

* * *

They ran for what felt like half an hour, until the lights of the exit were far behind them, and they were thoroughly lost in the woods. Their feet crunched on fallen branches, and the hollow roar of the Palisades was drowned out by the rustle and chirp of forest life. At long last, Harper's ankle gave out once more, and the three were forced to rest on a moss-covered log.

"_What now_, _oh fearless leader?" _Alex grumbled, sweeping a spider off of her makeshift seat.

Justin scowled at her. "Don't even try to blame this on me. This is _your_ fault."

"_Because I just _made_ you get in the truck with Dean, huh?" _

"If you hadn't acted like such a baby about it, then maybe we'd actually have a place to stay for the night!"

"_Shut up, I was not acting like a-" _

"You guys!" Harper looked pale and exhausted in the moonlight. "Just stop it!" With an exasperated sigh, she turned to face Justin. "Can you use magic to get us somewhere?"

Justin looked sheepish. "Uh, I guess I could..."

Alex pulled Max's jacket sleeves down until her hands were hidden. "_Home would be nice. Just a suggestion." _

Pulling his wand back out of his pocket, Justin stepped away from the girls and murmured a bit to himself, trying to find the right words. He had always been awful at inventing spells, and having not practiced in almost three years was certainly not a help. The whole reason he'd chosen to drive instead of transport to New Jersey by magic – aside from the danger of landing in someone's living room – was because of his lack of practice.

After several quiet minutes, he turned around and motioned for Harper and Alex to come closer. "Grab my arms," he told them. Harper cooperated quickly, but Alex acted as though she was being forced to hold onto a rotting fish.

"Alright," Justin said, stretching out his fingers. "Here we go – _This plan has gone all topsy turvy, so take us now to Lakewood, New Jersey." _

"_That didn't even rhyme_," Alex started to gripe, but no sooner had the words started out of her mouth than there was a sudden rush of wind and a searing white flash. The sounds of the forest vanished, the murmur of traffic dwindled into silence, and the darkness of the forest was pulled and stretched and twisted until...

"Welcome," Justin said, slipping his wand into his pocket, "to New Jersey."

The forest was gone, and in its place was the homey orange glow of a streetlamp; a streetlamp that illuminated a familiar stone archway.

They were at the cemetery.

Wordless and solemn, Justin hooked his arm around Alex's. On the other side, Harper grabbed her hand tightly, entwining their fingers.

And, on shaking legs, they took the first step together.


	17. Conclude

_Well. I said there would be a couple of more chapters, but I decided to include the epilogue in with this one for simplification's sake. Also, I wanted to get the whole thing posted as a commemoration of October 30th - the date of Alex's death in this story. So here it is. The conclusion of Psyche, after over two years and who-knows-how-many chapter revisions and frustrating waits. I'd like to thank each and every person who's ever read this story, and especially those who sent me encouraging messages and really drove me to keep on writing. If you remember, it started out as a silly project I never fully intended to finish. The overwhelming reaction I got to it was what pushed me to get my act together and finish what I started, and I'm so thankful for that. I've had a blast writing this story, and I hope you've enjoyed it. Thanks for sticking with me through the many hiatuses :)  
_

_Much love, _

_Giz_**  
**

* * *

**conclude** |kənˈkloōd| - _verb; formally and finally settle a treaty or arrangement_

Finding the mausoleum was easy. It was a plain stone building by the sandy edge of a green pond, adorned with vases upon vases, like morbid window boxes – only the eyes behind the granite windows were unseeing.

Opening it was the hard part. Justin's hand shook so hard that his wand nearly hummed. There was an eerie calm over the entire cemetery. It was like a sprawling stone garden, and every statue seemed to be watching with a quiet, observant gaze.

"She's scared." Max spoke for the first time in hours. He sounded worn and weak, and as Justin whispered spell after spell to undo the screws on the panel, Max sank to the sidewalk and closed his eyes. Harper followed.

"You sure you're okay with this?" she asked.

Max almost smiled. "You have to be kidding me. I've been waiting for this day for three years."

It didn't answer her question, though.

"Got it," Justin announced. He'd managed to remove the stone panel, and behind it the black wood of the casket glinted in the moonlight, like the eyes of a waking beast.

For several long moments, no one said anything.

"_Well, what are we waiting for?" _Max's eyes flickered, and his tone shifted as Alex made herself known once more. But she sounded more reserved, more hesitant. "_We didn't come all this way and almost get arrested by my demented ex just for you losers to get cold feet." _

"Alex..." Justin started, pain in his eyes, but his voice trailed off. He took a step forward and grasped his brother's hand. Alex didn't protest.

"_Go ahead," _she choked out after a moment. "_Just get it over with." _

It took Justin several minutes of deep thought and two improvised spells, but with a low grind, the casket finally edged forward, out of its prison. Harper clasped her hands over her face, trying to hide a surge of tears. Alex, silent and expressionless, turned her back and set her eyes blankly on the sky.

The casket hit the stone ground with a muffled _whack_, and reality set in further, like a spreading infection. Justin's face was stark white, his hands clammy, but he squared his shoulders and clenched his first around his wand.  
"Are you ready?" he asked Alex.

"_Might as well be_," she answered hoarsely, and that was that.

They sat down on the cold stone, circling the casket like a twisted campfire meeting, and with a slither of wood on fabric, Alex pulled Max's wand from his back pocket.

"Max will have to say the spell," Justin said, and Alex nodded.

"_Okay_."

There was a brief silence, then Harper cleared her throat. Her face was patterned with tear tracks, which she wiped away with one fist. "W-well," she stammered, "I guess we should-"

Alex sprung forward, a blur of blue windbreaker and olive skin, and wrapped Max's ropy arms around around Harper's shoulders.

"_I'm so sorry_," she muttered weakly into the girl's neck. _"I was stupid." _

Harper shook her head, embracing her friend tightly in return. "Don't. Don't even say that, it's not your fault. If I hadn't called you about Dean-"

"_You didn't do anything_," Alex argued_, _pulling back slowly. "_This whole mess was my fault. You were the best friend I ever could have had, and I left you. I should have at least let Max say something..." _

"I don't blame you for that." Harper's shoulders were shaking again, the corners of her red-rimmed eyes puckering. "I don't blame any of you for anything." She took her friend's hands in her own, and squeezed. Then, with a watery smile, she let go.

Alex sniffed, trying to stifle a smile on her own face, then turned towards Justin.

"_Justin, I-" _

"I know."

"_But I've always been so-_"

Justin shook his head, a placid smile on his face. "It's okay. You're my little sister. We're supposed to fight." He offered his hand to her, and she took his fingers lightly. "I love you, Alex."

Alex was crying now, slowly and shakily, the tears looking foreign on Max's face. "_I love you too." _She looked over at Harper again._ "Both of you_."

Justin scooped her up into one final hug, and for a few moments they stayed locked together, tears dripping rhythmically onto his shoulder. If Justin closed his eyes, he could imagine the sharp brush of manicured nails, the smell of perfume and chewing gum. The husky cackle of a voice he hadn't heard in years.

It was all about to be over.

"Are you ready now?" he repeated at last, and Alex nodded almost imperceptibly.

"_Yeah_."

"Then let Max through."

"_Okay_." With the wide, uncertain eyes of a child, Alex took one last look around at her brother and best friend, and then muttered, "_Bye." _With a familiar flicker, the brown eyes softened, the tense shoulders fell, and Max Russo stared back at them.

He looked pained for a few moments, but at last he settled back onto his knees and looked over at Justin. "Give me the spell."

It was Harper who jumped up, reaching into her pockets. "I have it, right here."

Justin reached out and laid a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Take as much time as you want, bro."

"Mm-hmm." Max dipped his head.

The hinges creaked as Justin started to lift the lid. "I should warn you guys," he started, "that Mom didn't want her embalmed-" He opened the lid a bit more "-so nature will have taken its course with..."

Justin trailed off. The orange glow from the streetlamps slipped into the open casket, illuminating its contents. Snub nose, pale eyelids, brittle curls obscuring a bird bone neck – each feature was revealed to him one by one, like a fossil dig, until the small, motionless face was in full view.

She looked as though she had been dead only moments, instead of years.

"Justin?" Harper leaned forward, and her breath caught when she saw into the casket.

"It must be the spell," Justin managed. "Her body-switching spell." Hesitantly, he reached out, ghosting one hand over his sister's arm. She had been buried her black Homecoming dress, with vinyl heels strapped to her tiny feet – it was as though she had been suspended in the very night that Dean Moriarty altered the course of her life, waiting for an outcome. As though this Alex in front of them – this peaceful, beautiful Alex – was just waiting for a soul, so that she could get on with her evening.

"Should I say it now?" Max asked, his eyes locked on Alex's face.

"Whenever you're ready."

Max nodded, then cleared his throat and raised the paper up. Clutching his wand in one hand, he rasped out four small, clipped, anticlimactic words.

"_Please brain, leave brain."_

The result was instantaneous. He scrunched his eyes shut and his hands flew up to clutch at his hair, but within mere moments the discomfort seemed to dispel, and he looked up at Harper and Justin with something akin to shell-shock.

"It's quiet," he said at long last, and that was how they all knew.

It had taken three years, but Alex Russo was finally gone.

They sat there, silent, for the longest time, listening to the hum of traffic and the slither of wind in the leaves. Harper leaned into Justin's arms, and Max pulled sharply at tufts of grass, keeping his eyes as far from the casket as possible. A deafening silence roared in his head, blaring over his own thoughts, making him dizzy. It felt wrong.

After several minutes, Justin finally straightened up and cleared his throat.

"We should put her back," he said, leaning over to close the casket, but when he did so, something caught his eye – a tiny flicker of motion. He froze.

"What's wrong?" Harper asked, following his line of vision.

Justin furrowed his brow. "She just-" And it happened again – a ghost of a twitch near her eye, a flutter of movement in her stomach. Justin's heart nearly stopped as he leaned in close, his jaw clenched tightly, waiting for confirmation.

Alex's chest rose.

"Did you see that?" Harper exclaimed, motioning to Max. He shuffled up to her side, doubt etched in his face, but he watched just as intently as the others.

When Alex's hand flexed, the three of them gasped in unison.

"Alex!" Justin reached for her wrist, her neck, anywhere that there was a pulse – and when his fingers found a faint beat, he could have cried. "Alex! _Alex_!"

Her eyelids twitched, then fluttered, then, after what seemed like a slow, tugging eternity of moments – they opened.

Dry lips struggled to move, and bony fingers popped in their joints, flexing with ancient, stumbling movement. She tried to turn her head, but winced sharply at the motion; a tiny gasp of pain escaped from her throat, basic and honest as a child, but her eyes were full of deep understanding, and deep fear.

Justin could feel his heart pounding in his ears, his fingertips, the soles of his feet. With shaking hands and trembling knees, he brushed a hand over his sister's hair. "Don't move. Just... just stay right there, we'll figure this out."

But Harper was starting to cry all over again, and Max was standing in dumbstruck disbelief, and Alex was _alive holy shit she was actually alive again_, and Justin couldn't even think of what to do next. He just touched her head, her cheek, her hand, until she gave another tiny gasp – almost a cough – and Justin began to feel rooted to the ground again.

"Alright," he said, trying to focus, "we need to get the casket back in the wall, and figure out a way to get her out of here. Alex, do you think you can walk?"

She gave another cough, then the fainted whisper of something that sounded like, "Legs."

Harper wiped one fist across her red-rimmed eyes, and gave a single, sarcastic chuckle. "Justin, you're all wizards. I'm pretty sure we can just leave the way we-"

She froze in mid-sentence.

Neither of them saw the headlights until they were too close, already climbing over the hill like a slow-chugging train. Yellow light raced across the grass, spreading over the mausoleum walls like floodwaters, and Harper held her breath, all of the color draining from her face.

"Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing?" The guard was livid, his voice filled with raw shock and rage. The cart slammed to a stop on the cold sidewalk, and a burly figure leapt out, his flashlight shining wildly and harshly into the faces of four very startled young people.

It was Justin who pulled his wand from his back pocket first, but Max who barked the orders.

"I have an idea!" He pulled out his own wand, and took one stumbling step into the grass, a dazed uncertainty in his eyes. "I'll meet you at home."

Justin could hardly move his mouth to speak, but urgency overcame logic, and he found himself reaching blindly for Harper's wrist with one hand, and Alex's with the other. As his lips moved and the wind started to roar in his ears, he tried to focus on Max and the security guard. But then the stars vanished and the trees changed, and he was lying flat on his back with the groan of traffic in his ears.

For several moments, Justin just stayed where he was, looking up at the sky. Harper's sobs finally slowed into heavy, short breaths. Alex coughed again, and her hand flexed against his arm.

It took Max exactly eight torturous minutes to finally appear in the clearing, panting and chilled to the bone, but thankfully unharmed.

"Never underestimate the power of a weird spell," he said wisely, before collapsing next to Harper and recounting a short but thrilling tale that involved goats, fake snow, and some low-level memory alterations. He looked as though he could curl up and sleep for a year, but there was a light in his eyes that hadn't been there just hours ago. It was faint, but it was steady.

"Where are we?" Harper asked when Max was finished. She finally sat up, brushing pine straw out of her hair.

"The woods behind our house," Justin explained. Then, his face went white. "I haven't even started thinking about how we're going to tell Mom and Dad."

Alex opened her eyes long enough to add, "Dump me in their bed. Dad loves surprises." The others laughed, and Harper reached out to grab her best friend's hand.

"I guess we should explain beforehand." The porchlights of the Russo house were just barely visible through the dense trees, like a distant beacon. "Harper, would you like to help me do the honors?"

She shook her head violently, but a minute's persuasion – and a kiss that Alex tried her best to grimace at – later, Justin was pulling her into the woods, towards the treeline. Their footsteps on the frosty ground faded into a whisper, leaving Max and Alex alone.

For a minute, no one said anything. Max leaned back into a tree, and Alex looked numbly up at the stars. Then, after a long, peaceful silence:

"Thank you." Max tilted his head down to look at his sister. "A lot."

Alex tried to smirk, but it came across weak and sad. "Thank _you_. For keeping your mouth shut even when I was a bitch." Her voice was still weak and harsh, and her lips moved clumsily, but she sounded like herself. It was a voice that no one had heard in years, and it warmed Max's heart.

"C'mon, you weren't a-" Max made a point of reconsidering his answer. "Wait, wait – you kind of were."

"I'd slap you if I wasn't so tired," Alex groaned. She stuck her tongue out partway, then closed her eyes and took a deep, cleansing breath.

"Things are about to get a lot harder," she noted after another minute of silence. Max hummed in response, and reached down to flick a strand of hair off of Alex's forehead.

"Too bad we don't have magic powers or something."

"Damn, that would make things so much easier."

"Totally."

The two collapsed into matching smiles, and with their fingers linked they stretched out on the frost and waited for the echo of approaching voices and the crunch of rapid footsteps to tell them where to go next.

* * *

**_Several months later - Colorado Springs, CO_**

"I think I'll go out for basketball. Or football. Or gymnastics."

Max narrowed his eyes. "You're making that up. High schools don't have gymnastics teams." But he leaned over a little in his chair, trying to catch a glimpse of the pamphlet in his sister's hand.

Alex tossed the paper back on the table and picked up her slice of pizza. "How would I know? I didn't read it."

The two ate in silence for several minutes, their feet propped up on the kitchen table and their eyes trained on the picture window, where a pink sunset was just slipping behind the mountains. They couldn't see Pike's Peak from their house, as Theresa had hoped, but after growing up with a view of bricks and stone and people passing like a river of sound and motion, the evergreen trees and bright blue sky were worthy of a souvenir post card, at the very least.

They had picked Colorado by a dart throw – Jerry had tacked up his best atlas on the living room wall, and a blindfolded Max tossed darts until one finally landed somewhere that wasn't anywhere near New York. They had rung Harper up on speaker phone, and pretended that it had landed on Alaska just to hear her reaction.

Harper had remained in New York City, sharing a small apartment with Justin while she saved up enough money to set her sights on the Fashion Institute. It was all she talked about in her weekly emails to Alex – her portfolio ideas, her job as a waitress, her new sewing machine. Each email was a reminder that on that cold, dark night in early November, Alex Russo hadn't been the only person to get her life back.

Alex scooted away from the table, gripping the counter to pull herself up. Her reed-thin wrist shook under the effort, but it was an improvement. After three years of disuse, her body was weak and withered; her hair was thin and dry, her dark eyes sunken, but there was a light about her. A certain peace. She could only walk short distances without having to collapse into her wheelchair, and speaking for too long left her throat hoarse and raw, but every day there were steps forward. Forward and onwards and infinitely upwards. Because when one has survived death – has attended their own funeral and laid dormant in a coffin for three long winters – no feat is unimportant. The simple miracle of motion and breathing, the mere thumping of a heart, is cause for celebration.

"When is Mom getting home?" Alex slid her plate across the counter, and leaned into the granite, coming away with pink ridges in her skin. "Isn't she taking you driving?"

Max pulled his feet down from the table, a smile broad and genuine on his face. "Dad's taking me, if he gets home before dark."

Theresa and Jerry had been overseeing the renovation of an old meat market into what would become the third incarnation of the Sub Shop. Theresa complained that it smelled like pig, but the windows were tall and bright, and the front stoop was worn brick and looked like home, and while it would never have a subway car jutting out from one side or a fruit market across the way, or the constant hum of conversation, it was the closest thing to normal that any of them had felt in years.

Teaching Max to drive had been one of the final steps in the normalization of the Russo family, and the attempt to reverse the effects of those three hellish years. Every night before dinner one of their parents took him out to drive square around downtown Colorado Springs, until the sun set behind the mountains and the local radio station announced rush hour. It would be Alex's turn, one day. After all, she was still sixteen. She and Max, both. They had come to be known as the Russo Twins, a title that held gravity no classmate or friend in Colorado would ever come to know. After all, they had always been a family of secrets, and of rumors, and of lies. That was one thing that would never change.

Max joined his sister at the kitchen counter, and for a long time the two of them leaned over the granite edge and looked out the window at the pink-tinged sky of early evening, their socked feet barely touching.

"Can you even remember where we were this time four years ago?"

Alex rested her head on her hands and looked up at Max, her expression tranquil, her eyes filled with the softest of nostalgic glows.

"Alex, I'm about to have to do homework." Max made an exaggerated grimace. "Don't make me think right now."

With a ghost of a cackle, Alex gave Max a light shove, before leaning into his shoulder. And as the clocked ticked loudly on the wall and the sun fell further behind the peaks, they stayed like that, just barely brushing one another, but linked nonetheless.

* * *

_Fini. _


End file.
